#Hopefully now I’ve made this more art of it will start spreading…

[markeronacomputer]

Golly, who pissed him off that badly?

(@daily-chonny-jash you were saying?)

#Chonny jash #chonny’s charming chaos compendium #chonnys charming chaos compendium #chonny jash mind #cj mind #cccc #cccc mind #it’s pretty rushed but. #I am so proud of this. #I actually don’t know anything about TTCSM #but I mean… #If it has a Kill Count I guess I could watch that… #anyways with any luck the “mind has a bigass chainsaw” headcanon has now been spread far and wide #Hopefully now I’ve made this more art of it will start spreading… #art #beginner art #bad art

[yukidragon]

Is demon SDJ an au or just a halloween costume? also do you have a headcanon for demon Jack too?

To my knowledge, it could be both. I believe it started when YummyPinkMilk got the idea to draw Jack as an incubus, which inspired Jambeebot/Sauce to draw their own version.

Later on, Sauce made a sprite version for fun with a slightly tweaked design, as we’ve seen on the official Sunny Day Jack twitter. After that, costumes for all the male leads were made.

It’s really cool to see both versions of the design side by side.

Whether or not the sprites are just fun Halloween costumes or something more to them remains to be seen. A lot of people enjoy playing with this design as its own AU though.

Also, as a quick aside, let me remind everyone to please not repost art posted privately on the SnaccPop Studios Patreon. Art that was posted publicly is okay as long as you remember to give Sauce full credit for it like I’m doing here. Please support them and this lovely game by becoming a patron, backing the official Sunny Day Jack kickstarter, or just spreading the word. As a reminder, there’s just a week left before the kickstarter closes!

As for headcanons, well... I do have a few thoughts that I could rattle off. It’ll go under the cut of course since we’re talking about a sex demon AU for an Adults Only game. Talk about spice is pretty inevitable.

Also, there might be some mature themes that go beyond sex. The implications of this sort of supernatural being can get pretty dark if you think about it too hard... which I’m oft to do. How dark? Hopefully no darker than my third headcanon post with the tragedy of [Redacted].

...Which is giving me ideas for this AU. Strap in, folks.

Oh, before I get started, I should tag @channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic​ &  @sai-of-the-7-stars. If you want to be tagged in my next headcanon post, please let me know!

Since these are my own personal headcanons for a demon Jack AU, I’m going to default to using my own personal version of the MC, Alice. However, I will do my best to make mention of when things could apply to the MC in general.

For starters, Jack is an incubus in this headcanon. It’s not because he’s a male sex demon, but because he’s a top. I’ve been inspired by this popular thread that looks at the Latin origins of incubus/succubus and divides them not by gender but by sexual preferences. An incubus is a top, a succubus is a bottom, and a concubus is a verse.

Of course, Jack is flexible enough to take the role of a concubus or a succubus if his sunshine wants, but his preference is overwhelmingly as an incubus.

In this universe, sex demons, shortened to ‘cubi, can shapeshift to some degree, mostly in terms of body type, sex organs, and their more “demonic” features (wings, horns, tail, markings, etc.) This means that they can better appeal to the exact tastes of whatever human they’re catering to, or simply their own. This means that technically they’re genderfluid, but like anyone they have their own gender identity. In Jack’s case, that’s male, and the above appearance is what he is most comfortable in. If he wanted to, however, he could make himself look like the genderswap AU version of himself, Jill.

Despite being known as sex demons, ‘cubi don’t actually come from some infernal underworld... at least not originally. Rather, they’re beings made from magic as the manifestations of desire, specifically to cater to the pleasures of those that summon them. In a way, they’re something of a mixture between tulpas and familiars, bound to a specific person to serve them in exchange for that person’s energy to sustain them.

You know, something kind of similar to Jack’s situation with his sunshine in the main universe.

Now, I’m not saying Jack in SDJ is secretly an incubus or anything like that, even though he practically lives to serve MC and feels more secure in his existence through having sex with them, but... the parallels are kind of pretty apparent.

Naturally, this sort of setup is pretty rife with unfortunate implications if these magical husbando/waifus happen to be thinking and feeling sentient beings rather than glorified magical sex dolls made just for the pleasure of their owner. What sort of awful person would enslave some poor soul to just use them like that?

Oh wait.

Now... while this idea can very easily go into non-consent territory, I don’t want to go there, not even in an AU. This is just the origins of the ‘cubi species that serves as background in this universe. At some point in the past, they broke free of this unfavorable state of servitude. They weren’t meant to be able to reproduce on their own or live unbound to their masters, but the ‘cubi figured out how to do both and became their own race. They’ve been engaging in a both symbiotic and antagonistic relationship with humanity ever since.

Typically ‘cubi are unable to feel love of any sort due to their origins, but like any species that grows and changes over time with each generation, eventually there will be anomalies. Jack is one such anomaly. Unlike the majority of his species, he longs to love and be loved, but for the longest time didn’t realize that’s what he was missing. Much like in the regular universe, his family didn’t love him, but the ‘cubi parents didn’t even pretend they did, as the concept is just dismissed as a “human” trait, and humans are just for “food and fun” to the ‘cubi.

Naturally, Jack had a hard time living with the ‘cubi. Much like the main universe, he was neglected and ignored by those around him as he was growing, and eventually there was a tipping point that made him leave them and never look back again.

Although ‘cubi are most well known for being sex “demons”, they can feed off of any human desire, and it’s strongest when it’s directed at them. Sexual desire is just the most favored way for them to feed, as it’s very potent and pleasurable. This means that a human just looking at them with lustful feelings can offer them some energy even without directly engaging in sex.

The ‘cubi that either don’t want to have sex or are too young for it get their energy from platonic sources of desire or have energy donated to them by other ‘cubi. We respect enthusiastic consent in this house, and only consenting adults should engage in sexual behaviors, even in a fantasy AU.

Of course, once an adult, Jack did engage in sexual behaviors. What he didn’t get from ‘cubi, he thought he could get from humans. The pleasure was great, but he was still wanting more. He wanted to be the desire of many humans, believing that’s what he was missing. This led to a hedonistic lifestyle and a lot of people desiring him, but no matter how much desire he consumed, he was never satisfied.

Naturally, there are people who have a huge issue with sexual promiscuity. There are also people who have a huge problem with non-human races, ranging from distaste to outright hatred. Combine the two with plenty of fear, and you get tragedy.

With Jack seducing so many people and desiring so much attention, it was only a matter of time before the wrong people found out. There are demon hunters in this world, as well as those who believe the ‘cubi are evil. Jack was labeled as a demon seducing innocent people and clouding their minds, tempting them to the path of sin, and other such excuses to hunt him down.

Jack barely survived being killed by the hunters, but was captured instead. In this world, familiars are summoned and can be sealed away if they get unruly. The person who caught him was familiar with the origins of the ‘cubi and how similar they are to familiars, and used that to seal him away into a magical box.

This of course resulted in a Jack-in-the-box.

Yes I am quite proud of that pun, thank you.

As you might have guessed, Jack is in quite an unfortunate position. That collar around his neck isn’t just because it looks kinky. Fortunately, the order that captured him weren’t going to use him for slavery, but the bad news was that he was trapped in a dark place, devoid of all feeling. He was buried like unpleasant secret, locked away and eventually forgotten.

Poor Jack gets to suffer a similar fate as he does in the normal universe.

Fortunately, sunshine will find Jack in this universe as well several years later.

This world is a fantasy setting similar to a lot of JRPGs, with magic creating fantastic technology, but it has a strong medieval feel in ways. There are monarchies and nobility as well as monsters and magical races.

Alice was born into nobility. Although her family is a very loving one, there were duties expected of her due to her bloodline. The life of nobility can be cutthroat, with those aiming to destroy other noble houses for their own political gain, or unite via marriages.

This is especially true if they are engaged to be married to the next crown prince.

Despite it being an arranged marriage, Alice and Ian were close. They grew up together, were friends, and fell in love. It was like a fairytale...

And, like many fairytales, this one involves a curse.

No one knows who cast it, but there were plenty of suspects. It could have been a rival family that wanted their daughter to marry Ian instead. It could have been a curse meant for the crown prince, but due to the royal family’s supposed divine protection, it struck his fiancée in his place. It could even have been just the cruel whim of a wicked witch.

Whatever the case, the results were the same; Alice was one day transformed into a beastly creature.

This resulted in chaos of course, but for the most part, to protect the dignity of Alice, her family, and the royal family, it was kept a secret. Alice was hidden away under the story of being sick while others searched for the culprit and the cure. Crown prince Ian swore he would do whatever it took to cure Alice. He loved her even in her hideous cursed state.

Unfortunately, the more time passed without answers or a solution in sight, unrest set in. The queen especially was repulsed by the idea of her child marrying a hideous monster, no matter how Ian protested. The king was at best indifferent, not dissolving the engagement over the incident, but he refused to allow the marriage to proceed unless Alice was cured.

The secret slowly leaked, as secrets tend to do when money and political intrigue is involved. Pressure was put to annul engagement so that Ian could marry someone else. Noble families sent their attractive and clever members of the same age as him to strengthen bonds with him as it were

At first, Ian resisted all temptations and arguments. He was determined to marry Alice, but as time slipped away and they spent less and less time together, it was hard for his attention not to stray.

Alice had to remain hidden away in her family’s manor. Ian could only rarely visit her, and they mostly kept in communication via magic and letters. It left them both feeling lonely and missing each other.

At first, Alice refused to let Ian see her in her hideous state, but with time he managed to convince her that he still loved her regardless. When she finally allowed him to see what had become of her, he was shocked and horrified, but he managed to reassure her that it didn’t matter. The only one he wanted to marry was her. He loved her.

Alice believed Ian. He was her prince charming who would save her from her curse. He would never forsake her.

I think you can see where this is going.

Much like in the regular universe, time apart, popularity, and temptations of the flesh made Ian stray.

Stricken with guilt, Ian confessed what he did... and Alice couldn’t handle his betrayal.

The engagement was broken. Even if royalty aren’t exactly known for remaining loyal to their spouses, Alice’s family loved her enough to put an end to the engagement for her sake. Ian did everything he could to apologize and make amends, but Alice refused to see him. His constant visits trying to see her, gifts, and messages just made her heartbreak worse.

As word of the engagement being broken spread, there was also a rumor that Alice was going to a distant territory managed by her family to recover from her heartache. This allowed her to not only get some distance from Ian, but to lessen the risk of rumors spreading about her curse.

The place Alice went to live was a distant home surrounded by woods, isolating it from the rest of her world. Being betrayed by the person she loved and trusted the most shook her faith in people, and she insisted on living there alone, save for the occasional delivery of supplies and visitor.

Alice could have simply languished away in that place lamenting her fate, but instead she studied. She had an interest in magic that she had once been passionate about, but had to turn into an idle hobby when she wasn’t busy taking lessons as the future queen and spending time with Ian. Now she no longer had to worry about such distractions.

Perhaps it could help her find a cure for her curse when all other mages and scholars failed...

Time passed as Alice focused on improving her skills with magic and potions. Although Alice didn’t want anyone to see her in this state, she couldn’t help but feel lonely. One day, she was struck with the idea of having a familiar as a companion. Familiars are made from their master’s magic, essentially a piece of the mage given life. It could never betray her.

While engaged to the crown prince, Alice has access to the royal treasury at times. Ian would surprise her with presents that he technically shouldn’t have given away, but he was young, in love, and she was so keen to learn more about magic.

Despite the way things ended, Alice took some of those magical trinkets with her. One of those objects was a box, a medium meant to take some of her essence and create the familiar when the right ritual was performed.

Things go a little bit sideways when the box is already in use sealing away a being that is only similar to a familiar.

Luckily or unluckily, depending on your perspective, Alice just wound up releasing Jack from his box and forming a contract with him, binding them both together.

It was pretty surprising to the both of them, to put it lightly.

When ‘cubi are starved and in a weakened state, their colors are faded, and their eyes and markings won’t glow. Jack looked more like Joseph when Alice let him out, but with her magic feeding him due to their bond, he was his bright and colorful self again soon enough.

A lot of the dynamics between Alice and Jack are similar in this AU to the game universe. Jack can’t do anything Alice doesn’t want, and they can sense each other’s feelings and even thoughts. However, in this universe, Alice is aware of this, since that’s part of having a familiar, which allows her to guard her thoughts from him, if not her emotions.

While the situation is less than ideal for Jack... at the same time he finally feels what he was missing for so long. Alice is warm after he spent so many years sealed away in cold darkness, and he feels things from her that he never did from anyone else.

A pact with a familiar isn’t easily broken. Jack was also afraid that if it was broken, he would just go back into the box. He was still technically bound to it even as he was also bound to Alice. After learning about the hell he suffered when sealed away, she couldn’t bring herself to damn him like that, not when she could feel how terrified and desperate he was to never go back in there.

Jack offered to give Alice anything she wanted. He was ready to seduce her then and there.

Alice barked out a humorless laugh and told Jack that wasn’t a funny joke.

When visitors came over, Alice would wear heavy draping cloaks and veils to hide her body. When alone, she has less, so Jack saw her cursed appearance.

Jack didn’t see an issue with how Alice looked. In fact, her warmth and gentle heart drew him to her. It felt... good, but Alice had already been hurt before.

Instead of accepting sexual favors, Alice tentatively accepted his friendship instead.

So the two of them live together. Jack flirts with Alice, using his typical tactics that worked to draw people in before he got sealed away, being cheeky and seductive... and he finds that she responds when he was sincere instead. They form a genuine friendship and, as they grow closer, Jack eventually realizes that what he’s feeling for Alice, what he’s been missing all of his life, is love.

Eventually the two do fall in love after enough time getting to know and trust each other. Somehow Alice gets her curse cured as well. Maybe fitting with the fairytale theme, it could be cured through the power of true love... expressed through sex, since this is a story about incubi Jack after all.

I guess in this universe you can say Jack is a monster fucker as well as a demon?

Speaking of which, here’s a couple more ‘cubi headcanons that are on the spicier side.

The bond between them leaves a marking in Jack’s colors on Alice’s abdomen. Yes, it’s a “womb tattoo” since having some of Jack’s glowing markings being left behind as a sign of their bond would be fun.

The ‘cubi ability to appeal to their partner’s tastes isn’t just limited to appearance. The flavor of their cum can be altered to suit their tastes in a more literal sense.

Needless to say, Alice does not expect a vanilla cream finish the first time she gives Jack a blowjob.

A ‘cubi has amazing stamina and sometimes will savor their meal. Needless to say, Alice is going to have a hard time keeping up with Jack.

Though with access to magic, Alice has ways of potentially getting in some fun payback.

This is pretty much about all the headcanons I have at this time for this particular AU. I’m still unsure of Shaun and Nick’s roles in the universe, but I do know Barry is a merchant trader that Alice sometimes sells her magic potions to for extra money. Anyway, I hope you enjoy my really huge ramble about demon Jack that turned into an alternate version of Beauty and the Beast!

#Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SunnyDayJack #sdj #swwsdj #Fantasy AU #Headcanon Ramblings #Ask #Sauce-y Art #Incubus AU

[henriettalamb]

A (long) explanation to why I restarted the series

I’ve had a fair share of comments asking why I made the decision to restart the comic series (and for those who don’t know, there was a previous run of the series in 2014 to 2017) and I realize people were very attached to this old version- but there is a simple reason to why I rebooted it: I had to.

In what can be a cautionary tale for young & aspiring creators: I was a teenager and a total novice when I first started the series (it was an ask blog before i switched to full pages!) and I had no real roadmap or plan for where the series would go, and this started to manifest in ways that caused problems for me: not knowing how characters would act, not knowing proper panel placement, and essentially coming up with stuff on the spot, it was not sustainable from a creator standpoint in the long term.

But the other, more real reason to why I restarted it all is because the world changed. And I changed too.

The unfettered and bubbly & silly optimism that I had in those years were no more- starting in 2016 the world was in an increasingly new, dangerous place ranging from unhinged, ultra-nationalist fascism rising in my country and around the world, that hate manifesting into acts of violence against numerous oppressed communities- including my own, and the environment of the world started to get more violent and its future bleak.

And while this sort of hatred rose in many areas of society, I was realizing I was transgender and needed help getting to a place where I wanted to be. With the increasing apparent bleakness of the world compounding any mental issues I already had, I lost the drive to continue moving forward with art and even parts of my life.

When my former outlook of hope ended abruptly, the type of style and humor i put into the old-run of the comic felt utterly alien to what I became, what I was feeling, and I had no clue to how to continue it in a way that was not awkward. Thankfully, I got new meds, I transitioned, I moved out and got a good change of pace- and I finally had a clear outline of what I wanted this series to be and how I wanted it to go, and conclude. And the only way I could do that was start it again, on my own terms, older & a little bit wiser, and (while not perfect) my writing and art skills leaped miles above what I was originally making years prior. It’s a work that I make because I want to keep the reasons for moving forward alive and well, and putting that into my work- clinging on numerous reasons to live is not just something *I* need, but *everyone* needs right now... and the past self of me as a teenager who paid no attention to the world, assumed things would magically get better on their own- all without any self-growth, could not provide that type of narrative in a world that is intrinsically challenging and now radically different.

Yet, the old comic is still precious to me, and an important stepping-stone to how I am today- it’s of its own time and I just simply don’t want to change that, it’s almost nostalgic and comforting how that old comic’s aura is just of me, feeling more safe than I ever do now. I wouldn’t rid of that work in a million years. And yet, even as the new comic has its tense turns as the world does- I still want to infuse the newfound and very real love that deserves to be felt and spread in these troubling times- showing that amidst everything, there’s still someone- no, *people* who will love and care for you, and will keep you moving forward and support you up even if the world crumbles around you- and ultimately, you can even help do the same for them.

That’s Henrietta’s story! An outcast, in a new world in front of her with new and familiar challenges, even constantly dealing with inner demons, she can have new people in her life that can give her a reason to live. It’s an increasingly important aspect for me that I don’t think I could ever grasp back then.

So, stay safe, be good to one another, and all the while I’m going to give my all for you, and hopefully the story, world, and characters resonate to you the same way they do for me. <3

#mod post

[milli-moi]

Want something to read?

I’m never sure about posting fanfic directly here since I never feel it gets a big response but I might add an art to this, not sure yet, and since it’s one bit of a bigger bit then I thought I might as well. So here’s story 1 of Sections of Significance. It is on AO3 also and the rest will be too.

Edited: not one but two bits of fanart have been added in here, I’ve (hopefully) hidden them at the end so they aren’t able to spoil the story.

Hope you like it and pleeeeeeeaaaaase leave me some thoughts if you do…..?

- Sections of Significance #1-

There are few things which beat the sound of genuine laughter. Laughter is contagious, it can even help to cure depression. It's also a thing that Children do much more than grown adults. Bucky had read something about it in the New York Times, the newspaper he still recognised from his youth, albeit smaller than it once was. The article said that studies showed young kids laughed about as much as 300 times in one day whereas adults only laughed 20. He hadn’t been surprised by the figures until he remembered most adults weren’t him - many didn’t even have the basic level of war traumas to contend with.

Usually, kids had the purest forms of laughter, they could fall into fits of giggles which made them forget to breathe and fall about. Those laughing fits could fill a person's heart with so much love, and make them forget everything that happened in the cruel and treacherous world. It was less often adults laughed in that way. When they did, there became something even more pure about the experience.

When he heard Natasha giggling like that, struggling to stop laughing enough to speak it was the purest sound he had ever heard. Like a naturalist seeing a near-extinct animal out in the Rainforests Bucky felt he had experienced something so rare and so fundamental that he doubted anyone ever had before.

Natasha laughed, of course she did, sometimes at genuinely funny things, other times out of sarcasm. She was also very convincing at fake laughter when trying to flirt with a mark. She laughed with joy too, a rare sound which he doubted many others had heard. Sometimes those joyous laughs felt like a blurring in the time continuum, a quick glimpse back to the innocent child she had once been. It showed the child who had never danced in the rain and ran home soaked to the skin. It showed the marvels of the planet through the eyes of a first-time viewer.

This, however, was the first time he had seen her so overcome with laughter that all her emotional walls fell away.

She sat on the kitchen floor, knees up towards her chin with feet spread wider apart. Her hair was bundled into a ponytail, shorter strands of hair around her ears escaping from the tie. She wore a pair of baseball sneakers on her feet, old jeans which he was sure were supposed to have those holes at the knees and a tank top. On top of the simple outfit, she was wearing a rain poncho. A rain poncho that was now also covered in paint. Natasha sat on top of the plastic tarps laid on the floor, not caring that she was likely sitting in one of the main pools of paint spattered across the entire floor.

She looked up at him, wiping tears of laughter from her eye while smearing the green paint across her cheek from the back of her hand. Shaking her head she spoke, the two-syllable word broken in half by laughter.

‘Li-, ho.’

Bucky looked over to the cat who had started it all, sitting atop the covered kitchen counter licking her paws. She was spotlessly clean, feigning innocence while she bathed.

Liho had started it all, deciding to behave in a typical cat manner. She tapped at the lid of a Greek Green Olive paint can until it fell to the floor, bounced and sprayed paint across the newly painted wall. Natasha had sworn at the cat for messing up her half-dried work and then tried to chase her from the room.

He wasn’t exactly sure what had followed, only that Liho had decided that she was not leaving the room. At one point Bucky had slipped on the paint-covered tarp, throwing an arm out in reflex and pulling Natasha down with him. Liho had chosen that precise moment to try and leap onto the edge of the second open paint can. To shouts of ‘No!’ Liho had landed on the edge of the can, pushed it off balance and sent it flying from the countertop onto the floor, pouring a waterfall of emulsion as she did so. Bucky had worn most of it, grabbing a handful of Natasha’s top to wipe the green from his face.

She had playfully batted his hand away and turned, only to slip again in the puddles on the plastic-covered floor and splash down onto it. Alpine had picked the wrong moment to wake up from a nap and come to investigate the commotion as she was knocked over by Liho finally escaping the scene of the crime.

While Liho sat on the countertop without a speck of the green paint on her black fur Alpine lay under the heavily covered kitchen table, tail twitching and growling at her feline friend. Alpine was more green than white and proceeded to try and lick the paint from her fur only to mix it further in.

As if to add insult to injury Liho decided to make a neat jump onto Bucky’s shoulder. His t-shirt was now so caked in half-dried paint that it was beginning to harden but Liho decided to purr loudly in his ear, rubbing her jaw against his stubbly cheek.

‘Oh, so we’re friends now? Thanks.’

Natasha laughed again, shaking her head as her whole body seemed to vibrate. Bucky couldn’t help but smile, as much as part of him wanted to put the cat in time out or whatever it was parents did now he also secretly wanted to thank the little devil. If it weren’t for the cat then he would never have witnessed the inner child laughing on the kitchen floor.

The little Natasha who had never been able to make a mess like this, who could never have wasted the paint in such a way. The little girl who had never had a pet and who had never seen the joy that came from animals behaving as they will. The small child in her mind who was able to have fun in the disastrous paint job, knowing it would never be an issue that they couldn’t fix.

His heart swelled in his chest as he walked the few steps over to where Natasha sat against the back door and crouched to her height. Alpine hissed from under the table, pushing herself further back against the wall. Her tongue was now turning green from licking the paint.

‘Poor Kotenyok, I hope she forgives us,’ Natasha spoke through giggles. Bucky quickly grabbed hold of her hand as she went to push the hair from her face. She looked at him, then her hand before laughing again.

He looked into her eyes, bright and almost glowing with the basic joy she felt. The green of her eyes contained elements of the green paint on her cheek, nose, chin and across a part of her neck where it had evaded the rain poncho.

Bucky smiled to himself, gently taking her chin in his hand and kissing the tip of her nose. He accidentally left a smudge of dried green under her chin as he did but presumed that could be fixed at another time.

He stood, heading from the room and fumbling in his pocket for the cell phone he was always losing.

‘Where are you going?’ Natasha called after him.

Bucky stopped at the door, holding the now ringing phone to his ear,

‘Calling Sam. Think it's time we abort this mission. He’ll know a guy.”

Read More (pictures)

#black widow #natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #marvel #buckynat #bucky barnes #mcu #winterwidow #james buchanan barnes #winterwidow fanfic #buckynatfic #cute buckynat #Alpine and Liho #domestic avengers #domestic buckynat #domestic winterwidow #cute fanfic #sfw fanfic #sfw #my writing

[foli-vora]

So ngl I finished reading You're Somebody Else and this day has been tough due to regular depression, period depression, anxiety, a bunch of medical issues and just waking up on the wrong side of the bed and I wanted to thank you for the cathartic cry - I've needed a bunch of them all day. BUT - I also wrote this??? I've never written fanfic before so you inspired me? There's ALSO MORE but I'm exhausted and just need to go to bed. Anyway, thank you for this. I have a whole ass story in my head now that continues on but here's fanfic of your own fanfic. Love you!

--------

Marcus keeps tabs on you after your release. A massively reduced sentence, only a year, for your “cooperation”. He grimaces. Guilt knaws at his stomach. A not too uncommon occurance nowadays. He tells his partner that the information about where you are is to make sure you stay out of trouble, but he’s sure that Bernie can see right through his pathetic excuse. A pitied look, a soft half smile. 

You had said you never wanted to see him again. It didn’t mean he couldn’t see you. 

—————

A couple months after your release, he had attempted to go to the coffee shop you liked, mainly in a poorly conceived attempt to see you “accidentally on purpose”. He’s immediately accosted from behind the counterby the owner, Shelly - a girlfriend of one of the guys you helped put away. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” 

Marcus sighs. 

“I promise I’ll leave in a minute. I just wanted to know wh-“ 

Shelly scoffs. 

“You got a lotta nerve, you know that? Like she’d even wanna see you in the first place. Didn’t she tell you that she never wanted to see you again? Yeah, that’s what I thought. You know? As someone who dated a criminal, I’ve seen some pretty shitty things, even if I didn’t know the specifics. But what you did? That’s probably the shittiest thing I’ve ever seen. So congrats, you’ve just reconfirmed by ACAB beliefs! The door is back behind you, hopefully it smashes your ass hard on the way out."

She turns and starts to enter the door behind the counter. 

“Please, Shelly. I’ll leave as soon-“

She whirls. 

“She’s. Not. Here. She hasn’t been by for over a year, since she was - you know - in prison. She doesn’t even live in D.C. anymore! Thanks for stripping away the one fucking support each of us had, you piece of shit. NOW GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Marcus nods once and leaves. He hears a sob behind him. 

———————

He finds you in a small city in Virginia 20 minutes outside of D.C. by the metro. Marcus was privy to the information provided by your parole officer to the federal government. Since Marcus was assigned your case, he had access. 

Marcus doesn’t even know what he’s doing here. You made your feelings clear…but, if he was being honest with himself, he wanted to make sure you were alright. He sees the betrayal on your face when his eyes met yours in that interrogation room when his eyes close shut. Your sobs as he left the visiting room permeate his thoughts at night. Your laughter haunts his dreams, your soft mewls you made when making love sing to his soul. He still loves you. 

—————

Marcus drives past your new shithole apartment. He remembers your old one in D.C. - a home. Your own original pieces lining the walls, books on art and life and love spread across multiple brimming bookshelves, the smell of garlic and onions wafting through the air - courtesy of your stove. This new apartment is sad, lonely, a life belonging to a felon. Marcus has to tear his eyes away. 

He reaches his destination about 15 minutes later and Marcus already sees your little crappy car parked in the lot. 

The park is nice this time of year. Everything is green and vibrant and full of life. He sees the flash of white as he steps out his car - an easel. 

And you. 

His heart pounds harder. You look as beautiful as the night he met you, sitting in that lawn chair. He smiles, sadly. 

You don’t see him yet. You’re staring at the easel. Marcus can see the way your eyes narrow at the ducks walking towards the little pond you’re facing. You’re holding a pencil - a preliminary sketch before the obligatory painting to come. 

After you seem satisfied with the ducks, your head turns slightly towards the easel. Marcus sees you lift your pencil. His breath catches - he always loved this part, whether it was an original painting or a fake, the start of a painting by you was magical.

But -

Your pencil stays glued to that one spot. It doesn’t move. For five minutes, for ten. It stays put. 

Marcus looks at your face again and he finally sees it. The wobble of your bottom lip, the realization that painting was pain, not pleasure. He’s not close enough but he senses the tears in your eyes. Your hand begins to shake. You drop your pencil.

—————

He’s going to come over to you. He’s walking and planning and thinking - “I love you - I’ll always love you - I’m sorry - Forgive me - You mean everything to me”. 

Your hands cover your face. Your frame is wracked with sobs. He’s almost there, he’ll make it better, just hold on - 

Then, he sees him. 

The man beats him to it. Marcus stops short. 

The other man tentatively puts a hand on your shoulder. You startle slightly and shakily wipe away your still falling tears. The man asks if you’re alright. You breathe out a small bitter laugh. 

“I can’t paint anymore.” Your voice cracks. 

Fuck. 

I’m sorry, what??

This is wonderful, anon. Like holy fucking hell. I’m so fucking flattered!

You took time out of your day to write this and share it with me, with us, and god damn it I’m crying. Sobbing.

The pain you made me feel at the end there—fucking ouch. Her whole life is art so to not be able to paint would ruin her, god she must be so heartbroken still! This is so fucking brilliant and I keep reading it and just loving it each and every time and I don’t think I can properly articulate what this means to me, nonnie.

I’m drowning you in love, forever and ever. I appreciate this, and you, so fucking much.

#foli answers #I’m broken #nonnie wrote me a whole ass story here #what a fucking SWEETHEART #LIKE HELLO

[literaticat]

Hi Jenn,

I’m an author-illustrator and I work traditionally, with gouache on paper. I’ve felt discouraged lately because it seems like most everyone is moving to digitally created illustrations. I see so much beautiful digital stuff out there. Do you think traditional art is becoming passé for book illustrations? I know that it completely depends on the artist and the work, of course. But recently I’ve had a couple of projects where the editors have asked me to change final art multiple times in drastic ways (oh, just move that character over a few inches, again!) and even to “zoom” one of my paintings in! I had to explain that I can’t “zoom in” a painting, I would just have to repaint the whole thing. They didn’t seem to understand. I guess what I’m asking is, do you think painting illustrations traditionally is something that is becoming too cumbersome for everyone involved? Also I fear that it looks “fresher” to have digital work as opposed to traditional work now. Any thoughts would be appreciated!

This is probably a better question to pose to illustrators because I don't know like, the terminology per se, but BASICALLY:

I don't think traditional art is passé. Personally, I prefer traditionally done art (or digital art that LOOKS traditionally done, anyway). Many of my clients work in traditional media.

THAT SAID -- I do know there are ways to do your work traditionally, then "digitize" it, and that might be a happy medium for you. In other words (and again I'm sure I'll get this somewhat wrong but hopefully you'll get the gist) -- they can paint the work on paper. Then scan it in to the computer. Then adjust it as needed. So for your example -- if a "zoom in" was needed, they could just... zoom in. If the colors needed to be corrected or adjusted, or a figure moved an inch over, or the size of the monkey's head made more proportionate, or something moved so text would fit better, or whatever -- that could be tinkered with using photoshop or procreate or in-design or whatever it is, or the CHANGE scanned in and overlaid, without having to actually re-draw the whole spread.

Again, I'm not sure HOW this is done, but I know it CAN be done and is often done, so asking some pro illustrators about that might really help.

(Also, if all goes according to plan, I'm going to interview Cindy Derby on the December episode of my podcast and I will make sure to ask her more about how this works bc I am pretty sure that's how she does it (???), in any case she def paints traditionally to start, so anyway, keep your ears peeled for that!)

[chibird]

Hello everyone! A bit ago, I mentioned I made a big life update that I wasn't ready to share with everyone yet. Well, I'm finally ready! I'm going to be working on Chibird full-time now!!! I had essentially been working two full-time jobs for the past few years, as both a software engineer in the day and running Chibird at night and on the weekends, and it wasn't sustainable. Some days, I would finish work at 5, take a 30 minute break, and then start drawing or packing Patreon club shipments. I was anxious and overworked. With everything I was trying to spread about self compassion and mental health, it didn't make sense to continue working myself to the bone. In the past few months, I've been able to accomplish so much more for Chibird, like finishing my 2022 calendar in time for the holidays and designing new merchandise! And maybe even more importantly, I've been able to rest my body and soul, resting at night, taking weekends without working, and trying to exercise more too! Are things changing for Chibird? Only in a good way! I'll still be posting all my art for free a few times a week, but now, I'll be able to work on new, bigger projects, like making a plushie! I've been nervous to share because it felt really personal, and I didn't want expectations of me to change- I'm still just one person handling all of the art, messages, manufacturing, marketing, and so on, and a big part of the change was also to take care of my health. But at the end of the day, I know you all are some of the most understanding people, and you wouldn't have expected anything more than what I was able to give. I'll be going slow and steady- I won't be able to put out all the things I've been dreaming of for the past 10 years just this year, but I'll start to tackle one after the other in the hopefully many years to come! If you enjoy my art and want to see more projects from Chibird, you can join my Patreon where I share behind-the-scenes, create phone wallpapers, and ship out limited edition monthly mail! Tumblr, Instagram, and Facebook have paid me a grand sum of $0 over the years, and Patreon was a big reason why I could make this change for myself. I know it’s not possible for everyone, and that’s totally okay- I'm just glad you're here and enjoy my art!

This comic feels kind of raw, but I wanted to be totally candid and show you all a snippet of my journey that I don't often share. It was pretty tough trying to condense years of feelings and challenges and dreams into one comic, but I think it's better to just get it out there than fuss over it for another few months! I hope the text here makes everything clearer. It's been 11 years since I started Chibird when I was in school, and it brings tears to my eyes to say, I'm finally working on Chibird full-time! With much love, Jacqueline

#personal #chibird

[outerbankspreferences]

Let Me Make You Feel Good – Rafe Cameron

A/N: Just a random thought I had last night. 

Word Count: 2951

WARNINGS: SMUT NSFW 18+

MASTERLIST

The two of you sat in Rafe’s bedroom. You were looking through a magazine while Rafe was cutting up his recent drug supply from Barry. You didn’t agree with his unhealthy habit, but also knew how upset he got when you mentioned something to him about it. He always swore it was the last time or that he owed Barry a favour, but you knew that your best friend was falling down a slippery slop that you couldn’t pull him away from.

You and Rafe had been friends since the eighth grade when you got partnered together for a project at school and you’d been friends since. You two were completely different but in a good way. Rafe was always outgoing and confident while you preferred to keep to yourself. Rafe was always seeking adventure and excitement, and he soon discovered that you did too. Rafe would always push you out of your comfort zone, but never to far. You had been there for him when his dad was being a dick, or he just needed someone that wasn’t going to be so hard on him.

 You hadn’t realized you’d been lost in thought when Rafe spoke up pulling you from the dreamland you were in. “Huh?” You questioned completely missing what he said to you, “I said, have you heard back from that art school you applied too?” “Oh, sorry, yeah no I haven’t but they just closed registration so hopefully I’ll hear from them soon.” You explained going back to your magazine.

 You couldn’t help but get distracted by the way Rafe’s muscle would flex with every move of the illegal substance. Every time he went to crush a pill his hands would flex, and though you didn’t approve of the lifestyle you couldn’t deny how hot he looked right now. You had been avoiding your feelings towards Rafe because you knew how cliché it was to fall for your best friend. You also knew Rafe’s track record with women, he was more of a one and done kind of guy.

 You had been with a few guys but nothing like Rafe. You had only gone all the way with one boyfriend and then he broke up with you a couple of weeks later. You always blamed yourself, assuming you weren’t good at sex, so you never really tried again. Recently you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be with Rafe. You had heard so many stories from you friends, but you wanted to experience it firsthand.

 “Hey Rafe.” You spoke trying to get his attention, “yes.” “Why do you do drugs?” You asked as if it was the most common question ever and caused him to look at you. “I mean, what makes you enjoy them so much if you know it’s bad for you, and not to mention illegal.” You explained yourself more. “I don’t know, I guess it makes me feel something, y’know? I know it’s cliché, but it makes me feel something other than insignificant to everyone.” He was now facing you, legs spread apart so you could get a good look at his thighs. You shook your head in confirmation going back to your magazine. “Why the sudden interest in my extracurricular activities?” He spoke in a hushed tone knowing the Wheezie could be listening in. “I don’t know, I guess I just never understood why you choose something like that.” You said trying not to sound judgmental and it was his turn to shake his head going back to his previous plans.

 “I could make you feel good.” You spoke half under your breath hoping he wouldn’t hear you, but the way he turned in his chair defied what you wanted to think. “What did you just say?” “Nothing.” You responded too fast for his liking. “Oh really?” He asked smirking. He was playing with you. You weren’t stupid, you knew his game you had heard about it too many times from other friends. “I didn’t know you thought of me that way Y/L/N.” he spoke in a teasing tone and you weren’t sure if you should be offended or not. “It’s not funny Rafe.” You spoke half annoyed throwing a pillow at him causing him to laugh.

 Rafe didn’t realize that you had thought of him that way. Of course, he had thought of you that way on more than one occasion, but he never acted on anything out of fear. For years he listened to his father call him a failure, always telling him he wasn’t good enough for anyone. He thought you deserved the world, and he thought he couldn’t give you that. “I’ve thought about you that way too y’know.” He said turning back to what he was doing, “yeah right, you don’t have to lie just to make me feel better Rafe.” You snorted back. “I’m sure Riley told you all about how terrible I was in bed, I’m pretty sure that’s why he broke up with me.” You explained not looking at him. “That’s not why Riley broke up with you, I thought you knew that.” He questioned. “What are you talking about?” You asked. “He broke up with you because Topper caught him cheating on you, and then Topper told me. Then I not so kindly asked Riley to break up with you. I didn’t want you to get your feelings hurt. I’m sorry.” He explained.

 You should have been mad about him doing that, but you weren’t. It was just Rafe protecting you. He always had you best interest in mind and you loved that about him. “Oh, I didn’t realize. Is that why he had that black eye? He told me it was a misunderstanding in the locker room.” You questioned him further. “Well, that wasn’t a complete lie, we were in the locker room, it just wasn’t a misunderstanding.” Rafe laughed to himself again. “What did you mean when you said you could make me feel good.” He asked again and you were hoping he forgot about your comment.

 “I don’t know Rafe, it just slipped out. I’m not sure I know how to make a guy feel good that way anyways.” You spoke and Rafe could hear the embarrassment in your voice. “Has a guy ever made you feel good that way?” He wondered, not sure if he wanted the answer. “I’m not sure, it didn’t not feel good, but it didn’t feel great.” You explained thinking back to your only sex experience. You didn’t notice that Rafe was no longer at his desk but instead was moving towards the bed. He grabbed the magazine you were looking at and threw it on the floor and you looked up at him. The innocent look in your eyes only edged Rafe on more. “How about we help each other out. I’ll show you how to make a guy feel good, and in return I’ll make you feel good.” He spoke in a hushed tone getting down on his knees in front of you.

 You thought about Rafe’s proposition for a moment. It was what you always wanted but you feared not being good enough for him. “I don’t know Rafe, what if I’m not good enough?” You asked nervous. “That’s why I’ll show you. We don’t have too if you’re not comfortable.” He spoke, pulling your face towards his. You pulled him closer to you placing a kiss on his lips. It’s felt so natural like his lips were made for yours. He wasn’t a sloppy kisser, every move he made was calculated to prefection.

 Rafe moved the two of you so he was hovering above you on his bed, and you started to move your hand towards the bulge in his pants. He stopped your hands before you could move any further and looked at him. “Ladies first.” He winked at you before trailing kissed down your neck, each spot left tingling. He slowly moved to take your shirt off, “is this, okay?” and you confirmed by taking it off yourself. “You see Y/N/N, the thing about girls is you need to build the pleasure up, take things slow, let them enjoy every moment.” He whispered into your skin and placed more kisses on your collarbones, sucking into the swell of your breast. You let out a soft whimper, and Rafe knew you were puddy in his hands. His hands gently groped your breast over your bra, and you couldn’t remember a time Riley ever made you feel this good. “Can I take this off?” Rafe asked and you nodded your head, “words pretty girl, I need to hear you say it.” Riley never asked this many questions. “Yes, please Rafe.” And with that he reached behind you snapping your bra off without struggling. “How did you do that do so easy?” You asked surprise. “I’ve had some practice.” And with those words, you were reminded how inexperience you were, and how experience Rafe was.

 He could sense the nerves in your body and started to kiss you again removing your bra completely. His eyes went right to your breast and he swore he died and gone to heaven. “Gorgeous.” He looked back at you to see the blush on your cheeks and without breaking eye contact, Rafe took one of your nipples in his mouth, teeth grazing over it. You let out a sigh at the new sensation welcoming your body. He sucked gently at your nipple, tongue circling the sensitive nub and massaged your other breast. He could watch you squirm under him for the rest of his life. “Does this feel-good Y/N?” He asked not breaking eye contact with your face. “Yes Rafe, it-it feels so good.” You spoke up, “more please, Rafe. I need more.” You struggled to form sentences and you barely started. “Okay, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” Rafe spoke and he meant those words in more than just a sexual way.

 Rafe started to kiss down your body, pulling your shorts down with your underwear. “I want you to tell me if it doesn’t feel good and I’ll change it up, okay?” He asked concern lacing his voice. Your voice let out a shaky okay, and Rafe started to kiss up and down your thighs before opening your legs to him. “You are so beautiful. You’re soaked for me. That’s good.” He whispered kissing your clit. You jumped at the feeling and Rafe looked at you trying to judge your feelings. “Did that feel good?” He asked. And you nodded your head, “yes please Rafe. I want you.” You spoke and all you could think about was his tongue on your most sensitive body part.

 Rafe took that moment to dive into your dripping core. He licked a long stripe up your cunt, wrapping his lips around your clit again sucking harshly. He continued his movements until his teeth brushed your cunt causing you to flinch and Rafe pulled away. “Sorry, did that hurt?” He asked, and you shook your head. “Okay let’s try this,” he moved his tongue to slowly enter your core and he could feel your clench around him. You threw your head back in pleasure, running your hands through his hair pulling gently. Rafe groaned into your cunt and pushed your hips closer to his mouth. “That’s it pretty girl, are you going to cum for me? Is this the first time you’ve ever cum?” He asked wanting to be your first. “Yes Rafe, you’re the only person that makes me feel like this.” And you didn’t realize what this did to his ego. Eating you out was like a drug he had never done before, and he knew he would never get enough. “You can let go, you can cum for me baby. Let go.” He spoke into your cunt introducing his fingers, his tongue going back to flicking your clit back and forth and you welcomed you orgasm. Your legs were shaking, and it took everything in you not to scream. Rafe helped you all the way to the end of orgasm pulling every bit out of you. He enjoyed watching you like this. The sweat on your forehead, the twitch in your leg, the way your chest heaved up and down. He was falling in love with every little thing.

 He placed kisses back up your body and then on your lips and you pulled him close to you. You could taste yourself on his lips. It was always a taste you didn’t think you liked but on him it just seemed right. “That felt amazing.” You spoke between kisses, “but now it’s your turn.” Rafe had almost forgot about you pleasing him and he’s not sure if he could wait that long. He wanted to be inside of you, “no I’ll wait for another time. Please Y/N I just want you.” He spoke between kisses. “But Rafe”- “No buts. I’ll show you next time. I promise.” “There’s going to be next time?” You asked. You had thought he would do it with you and not be impressed. You had been trying to commit it all to memory, not wanting to forget a single thing. “Of course, I mean, as long as you want there to be another time.” You smiled looking into his eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes you feel in love with, “yes I want there to be another time.” “Okay, well let’s get this show on the road then.” Rafe spoke making you giggle. “I’m not an expert at this put I think you need to have less clothes on.” “Oh yeah? You think.” He said getting up taking his shirt off tossing it on the floor, his pants followed and then his underwear and you were greeted with him in all his glory.

 Rafe was handsome with clothes on, and you had seen him shirtless countless number of times, but something about him like this made you intimidated. He was bigger than your friends had told you, and you weren’t even sure he was going to fit. It’s like Rafe could read you like a book, “don’t worry, it’ll fit. I promise to go slow.” He spoke climb back on the bed hovering above you before placing a loving kiss to your lips. He lined himself up to your entrance and pulled you closer to him. “Wait!” You spoke up and Rafe moved away immediately. “I’m scared.” You whispered not looking at him. You were embarrassed and he moved so you were looking him in the eyes. “It’s okay to be scared. If you want to stop, then we’ll stop, but I promise to take good care of you.” He whispered placing another soft kiss to your lips. This time it was slow, nothing about this moment he wanted to rush. “Okay, I’m ready.” You said, and Rafe looked in your eyes making sure you weren’t lying to him. Once he confirmed it himself, he lined up at your entrance pushing in. He groaned at the feeling, but as soon as he saw you wince, he kissed you again. “You’re doing so well love, so prefect. Tell me when I can move.” He whispered in your ear and you took a moment to get use to the stretch. Once the pain started to subside you confirmed he could move. Rafe pulled out slowly and pushed back into you causing you both to let out moan. “It feels so good Rafe.” You praised him and he start to pump into faster, letting his head fall into your neck placing sloppy kisses there. You could feel your orgasm building again, while Rafe whispered dirty praise in your ear. “you make me feel so good.” “you’re taking me so well.” “you’re so perfect for me.” Each dirty praise bringing the both of you closer to your release. “Rafe, I think I’m gonna”- “I know beautiful, me too. Just a little longer.” He spoke and reached his hand down to start rubbing your clit and it took everything in you not to topple over the edge. “Now pretty girl, cum with me.” He spoke and you could feel him release into you. His orgasm and deep groans triggered your own orgasm. Your walls clenching around him felt amazing and Rafe was sure no one had ever made him feel this good.

 Once the two of you recovered from your orgasm you laid back on the bed and Rafe got up to go to the bathroom. “I heard girls are supposed to pee after sex Y/N. Something about infections.” Rafe spoke from his bathroom. “I don’t know if I ever want to get up, I think I want to stay in this moment forever.” You spoke wrapping yourself up in Rafe’s blankets. He came over and placed to soft kiss to your forehead, “are you saying that because you can’t get up?” “oh Rafe, you know me too well.” “come on, I’ll help you and then we can get in the shower.” He spoke lifting you up effortlessly and caring you into the bathroom. You both stood there, “well…” Rafe motioned to the toilet. “Well Christ Rafe, I can’t pee with you in here. It’s too much pressure.” You explained. “You just came in my mouth, didn’t seem to be too much pressure then.” He teased before leaving the bathroom to get some clothes. Once you finished your business, you opened the door to see Rafe waiting by it. “Let’s get in the shower, maybe I’ll teach you how to make me feel good in there. I always keep my promises y’know.”

TAGLIST: @lemur46​ @drewstarkeysbitchh​ @jjmaybankzz​ @taylathornton​

#rafe cameron outer banks #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe angst #rafe x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fic #rafe blurb #outer banks smut #Outer Banks #smut

[lonely-lost-soul]

Under the Floorboards pt. III

(Technoblade x Reader): Pt. I, Pt. II, Pt. III, Pt. IIII

     From that day on Tommy stayed with you and Technoblade in your collective house, Technoblade tried to establish some ground rules but Tommy being Tommy refused to listen to any of them. He was dead set on building a cobblestone tower as well as taking all of Technoblade’s golden apples instead of eating the golden carrots that were graciously given to him. Other than that, things seemed to be going okay for your little found family. Well, that was until Technoblade and Tommy got wind that a man named Dream was sniffing around the area. 

 Dream was an enigma to you, after hearing Tommy’s stories about the man you could only come up with two conclusions about him. One was that you had no idea what his motivations were in the first place and secondly you wanted to beat his ass for what he did to Tommy. As... unique as he could be at times no child deserved to be exiled and manipulated, it was disgusting. He was a sixteen-year-old boy who got caught up in too many wars and too much violence, you needed to protect him. So long as he was with you and Technoblade that’s what you planned on doing. That was what you silently vowed to yourself, even if Technoblade didn’t share the same sentiment. 

 Now, it seemed you were coming increasingly closer to voicing those feelings to the man himself. Tommy was shaking a little besides you he tried to look strong as Technoblade frantically told him to hide and splashed him with invisibility potions. He looked over at you next and grabbed your shoulders, he actually looked scared, which meant he wasn’t messing around. 

          “You need to hide too. God- there’s nowhere that he won’t check.” Technoblade mumbled, his brow creased, and he closed his eyes. “He CAN’T know about you! No one other than Tommy can, they’ll hurt you and-” Hesitantly you put your hands on his cheeks,  

         “Take a deep breath…” You said tenderly as he opened his eyes to lock with your own. “We’ll be okay, splash me with invis and I’ll stay by Edward, hopefully it’ll mask my particle effects.” He gave a worried nod; you pecked his lips tenderly to reassure him as he splashed you with the potion. Just in time too because a knock on the door sounded, for once Tommy was absolutely silent. You watched as a man who rivaled your boyfriend in size came through the door, your eyes widened at the white mask covering his face there was an almost haunting smile painted on it. You pressed your tongue against your teeth and watched him give a wave to your boyfriend. Even without seeing his face you could tell he was smirking coyly at him. Never one to be intimidated Technoblade gave him a casual greeting and their conversation about Tommy’s location began. You had to cover your mouth with your hands at one point to stop yourself from laughing as Techno began talking to ‘chat’ instead of talking to Dream. You watched as the masked man grew more and more angry at Technoblade’s antics, he began speaking about a favor and Techno reminded him that he believes in full reciprocity. At the end of the interaction, it took all of your strength not to punch Dream directly in his stupid masked face. Why the fuck did it sound like he wanted to murder a child? If Dream ever laid a finger on him again, he was personally going to feel your wrath. The potion wore off almost as soon as Dream disappeared over the hills, Techno immediately turned to Tommy anger written all over his face.

         “Where you eating my gapples that ENTIRE time?!” Tommy sputtered out an excuse about absorption and you watched Techno open the window and beckon Dream to come back. You gave Technoblade a look and he scoffed at you, 

          “I won’t let him hurt you again Tommy. I promise.” You swore looking down at him, and his face turned a little pink. Tommy cleared his throat and shook his head,

          “Thanks, Ms. Blade but I’m tough enough to fight him head on! Have no fear!” He pointed to himself with his thumb a proud smile adoring his face. You gave a little laugh and nodded in agreement, 

          “You definitely are. Thank you for reassuring me.” You hummed and his smile only seemed to widen, 

          “I’m more qualified to protect your girlfriend than you are it seems Technoblade.” 

 Technoblade looked unamused, his eyebrow twitching in distaste. “Tommy I literally hate you so much. You’re a nerd.” 

         “Play nice both of you.” You scolded them, “We have to work together and at least pretend to get along or it’s going to be a very long partnership.” They both nodded reluctantly, and Techno sighed tiredly, he ruffled your hair. The rest of the night was spent gathering some more food in hopes it would stop Tommy’s gapple eating tirade, it obviously wouldn’t but it didn’t hurt to try. After that all three of you turned in for the night, as both you and Technoblade were getting ready for bed he decided to speak up about the plan for the next day.

          “Tommy and I need to make a trek into L’manburg to find Phil and try to get my stuff back. I don’t want to leave you here alone considering what just happened today, but you also can’t come to L’manburg.” 

        “Bubs you know I’ll be fine here alone did we not just have this conversation?” You pinched his pointed ears, and he made a sound of protest. “I’ve got fighting skills, after all have you not been training me in the art of war?” You teased with a smirk, “I got this Blade.”

          “Okay, okay, okay.” He leaned forward and kissed you and you kissed him back without hesitation. You felt him squeeze your hand fondly before pulling away from you. “When we get back home, we’ll have a date night okay?” Technoblade whispered softly pressing his forehead to yours. 

          “Gonna be a bit hard with the raccoon boy snooping around.” You teased eyes sparkling in delight, 

         “I’ll send him on a quest for something or other. So, it’ll be just us, I swear.” The soft look on Technoblade’s face made your heart squeeze in your chest. He brushed your hair behind your ear, “I’ll make you dinner, and we can watch a movie.” 

          “Well don’t take too long then.” You sent a teasing wink his way and he smiled fondly back at you. You kissed him again pulling him down into the bed, you both bounced with a laugh. His pink hair hung down and framed his face gorgeously, his glasses slipped down his nose. You pushed them back up with your index finger and he went cross-eyed, “I’ll be looking forward to it.” 

 The next morning rolled around and after breakfast both boys reluctantly packed a bag with important things they needed for the day. Stepping outside with the two of them, Technoblade gave you a farewell kiss and you watched them disappear over the hills. They were most likely going to go cause problems for other people on purpose. Finally alone, you decided to check up on the nearby villages to see if they had any interesting trades that you and Techno could exploit. You slung a bag over your shoulder and placed a good portion of emeralds inside of it, you placed a few potions inside of the bag as well. As a precaution you also grabbed an axe and a sword, you had to be ready for anything after all. Shutting the door behind you, you started your trek through the snow-covered woods you heard the snow crunch under your boots and began to hum softly to yourself. You paused a moment and raised an eyebrow as you caught sight of a blue sheep wandering by, tilting your head to the side you approached it. 

        “Well, hey little guy.” You murmured reaching out and running your hand through the sheep’s soft wool. 

         “Oh, um excuse me!” A voice spoke from behind you, you jumped with a yelp as soon as you spun around you were met with a fully transparent man. He had a yellow sweater with a big gash in his torso, and a beanie resting atop his head. You tilted your head up and locked eyes with him, they were almost completely white.

 He was a ghost.

          “That’s Friend! She doesn’t really like others petting her but it’s okay because you didn’t know.” The ghost smiled; it was contagious as you felt yourself smiling back at him.

         “My bad, my names (Y/n). What’s yours?” 

         “Oh! I’m Ghostbur! It’s nice to meet you miss, I’ve never seen you around here before. Are you new to the SMP?” He tilted his head floating around you, almost as if to get a better look at you. You focused more on his name, Ghostbur, which means this was Wilbur Soot, ex-president of L’manburg, and ‘brother’ of Tommy and Technoblade. 

 You cleared your throat and rubbed the back of your neck. “No, I’ve lived in this area for a while, but I’m a wandering adventurer. I trade with the villages around here for interesting collectables stuff like that. I don’t do much of that now though.” You watched the ghost’s eyes widen a little,

          “That’s so cool!” He praised, “I bet you have a ton of cool stories.” 

          “Yeah, there’s been a few close calls, but I’ve made it back alive and well- oh shit no offense.” You winced a little and he laughed shaking his head, 

          “No worries it’s okay! I’m fine with being dead you know, no one really liked who I was alive, so this is better for everybody.” He puffed out his chest a little and a big smile spread across his face, that only caused you to frown. You reached out to try and touch him and your hand went right through the man, you both seemed to shiver at that, and he looked at you in shock. 

      “I’m sorry to hear that...that must be really hard.” Wilbur’s jaw dropped at your response, he floated around a bit awkwardly. If he wasn’t floating, he would’ve been shuffling on his feet in a nervous manner. 

       “N-No it’s…Wilbur was a horrible, horrible man.” He took a deep breath and began to throw some sort of blue substance on the ground in a rapid manner, you watched as he began to mutter and breath heavily. 

        “Woah, woah, woah I’m sorry don’t freak out!” 

         “I’m not, I'm okay see, see I’m fine and happy. Very happy with everything that’s going on so no worries okay! Here.” He tossed the blue substance at you and you collected it with a weary smile, “Have some blue it’ll make you feel better.” You thanked him quietly and you both stood there a bit uncomfortably that was until thunder rumbled overhead. “Oh no…I melt in the rain.” 

         “Here why don’t you come with me.” You smiled softly, “I know a place where you can wait out the storm.” 

          “Aw thank you.” Ghostbur clapped, “Friend can come too right?” 

          “Of course.” 

          “Good. Then lead the way.” He chirped as Ghostbur followed you back the way you came, now before you get too mad at yourself you should know that Technoblade had informed you that during his ‘execution’ Ghostbur had visited him at his home. If he didn’t share that information with you, you’d be never revealing Technoblade’s base. As the house appeared over the mountains the ghost looked over at you with a bright smile, “Oh! That’s my friend Technoblade’s house, do you live with him?”

         “I do.” You smiled fondly and watched his smile grow excitedly, “He’s helped me out quite a lot.”

         “That’s wonderful! Technoblade usually never helps people unless he likes them or if they can do something for him in return. You must be very special, are you two together?” He only had to glance at you for a moment before laughing excitedly, “You are! That’s wonderful!” Ghostbur chirped, clapping his hands as he phased through Technoblade’s door, officially safe out of the rain, turned snow. You had let Friend inside as well and Ghostbur continued talking “Tell me how you met, please, please, please.” Seeing how excited the ghost was you melted, he won your heart just like Tommy. However, you had to keep in mind his alive self-did blow up an entire nation and that couldn’t be just brushed away like he seemingly was trying to do, you can’t erase the past. You can only accept what happens, learn from it, apologize and grow. However, you didn’t see the harm in sharing how the both of you met so you began to retell the tale to Ghostbur, the entire time he had an almost bittersweet look on his face. 

         “I was married once...her name was Sally. She...left though. But I still had my son, Fundy and we did the best we could together.” Ghostbur said fondly his eyes softening,

         “I’m sorry...that must’ve been really hard for the both of you.” 

         “It’s alright! She was a salmon, so she was going to swim away eventually.” 

         “Like- like an actual salmon?”

          “Yes?” 

The silence that stretched into the room was deafening, you cleared your throat deciding not to dwell on the fact that the ghost in front of you very likely fucked a fish. You hoped to god she was some sort of shapeshifter, in fact that’s what you were going to believe. You managed to break the silence by asking about Fundy, and the way he gushed about him was nothing less than fatherly. It was sweet and you listened intently to him, Fundy seemed like a good kid, a bit quirky but you were dating a blood god so who were you to judge? Eventually the snow outside stopped and the sun began to peek out from behind the clouds. Ghostbur glanced out the window and decided it was time for him to head out with Friend. It was about midday and you were almost sad to see him go. 

 Alone again.

You still had hours to kill before Technoblade and Tommy reappeared, so you figured it was about time to start doing some chores. 

---

         “Ghostbur what’re you doing here?” Fundy murmured softly, looking over at the ghost with an exhausted expression. His ears were pressed back against his head, talking to the man who was once considered his dad always made him exhausted. Wilbur, or Ghostbur now, really was pitiful.

         “Can’t I visit you every once in a while!” Ghostbur hummed a smile plastered on his face as Fundy frowned. 

         “Preferably not. Plus...I’m a little busy right now I’m meeting up with Quackity and the Butcher Squad to talk about Techno again.” 

         “OH! Technoblade! I just spent the loveliest morning with his girlfriend, she was absolutely wonderful! She asked all about you and just adored Friend-”

         “Rewind, Technoblade’s what?” Fundy’s jaw dropped to the floor and he felt a hand on his shoulder, the young fox man stiffened. He looked to the side and saw Quackity besides him, Ranboo was next to him but Tubbo stood a little ways away. 

        “Yeah Ghostbur. Do continue.” Quackity grinned, his missing tooth sticking out from his last encounter with Toothpick. Ghostbur wilted a little bit and his eyebrows creased on his forehead, he fucked up didn’t he? 

        “I-um nothing actually I misspoke.”

        “Did he misspeak Fundy, cause to me it sounds like we have new leverage against Technoblade.” Quackity laughed a crazed look in his eyes, “Once again Ghostbur I have to thank you for the great information.” 

        “You’re welcome…” He murmured weakly, as Quackity stepped besides the ghost. 

        “Get your weapons boys, it’s time to pay the Technoblade household another visit.”

~~~

Hey guys! Pt. III is officially up! Technoblade’s livestreams huh? :) 

Also friendship with Tommy ended Ranboo’s my new favorite child.

As always I love your feedback thanks for reading! 

#dream smp #dreamsmp x reader #technoblade #technoblade x reader #ghostbur #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt #minecraft fanfiction #blood for the blood god #rp #fanfiction #fanfic #wilbur soot

[beerecordings]

Marvin's Cage

Story One l Story Two l Story Three l l Story Four l Story Five

This is part 1 of the sixth story, where Marvin's secret comes to light. Tws for extreme distress, imprisonment, Anti's general creepiness, and mentions of human trafficking.

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you love to hate it. I'll hopefully have the next part fairly soon. But also this is quite long, as a heads up

Okay, here we go...

They stack cards in terse silence, racing through decks, climbing up to Jacks, Queens, Kings. They both grab at a black seven of hearts at the same time and end up slapping at each other's hands, JJ yanking the card back just before his opponent. Anti cackles and keeps flipping cards, waiting for the next one to snatch.

“Peanuts,” signs JJ suddenly, and Anti swears and laughs and starts picking the cards up to re-deal, doling them out in piles, and they're playing again, without a word, stacking decks, up and up and up.

After a few rounds, JJ reaches for a bottle of water at his side, sucking it down and brushing at his sweaty hair. Anti rocks on his thighs, chewing at his nails. “Where's your sweet Big Brother today, child?” he asks.

“Comes and goes,” signs JJ, setting his bottle down and getting a granola bar out of its box for lunch. “Birthday week. Celebrate, family. But he will come see me soon. He loves me because I've been very good.”

He stacks up a fresh set for another game, yawning.

“He ought to let you come play with me in the real world,” purrs Anti, stroking his thumb across JJ's chin. Jameson shivers, but he does not protest. “He's so mean to keep you from me. Now all I get to do is come visit you and play silly games. My warm flesh... don't you know I miss you?”

JJ sorts his cards quietly, avoiding his eye. Anti reaches forward and grips his neck, squeezing gently.

“My warm flesh,” he repeats softly, licking his lips.

Jameson breathes through his mouth as Anti begins to strangle him, keeping calm. The easiest thing is just to get through it. If he talks back or makes Anti angry, then he'll really get hurt, and there will be nothing he can do to stop it. Anti gets up on his knees and crawls into JJ's space, pushing him down onto the floor of his cage. He straddles his waist and increases the pressure on his throat. JJ gazes up at him, still.

“We had such a good time together,” hums Anti, feeling his thready human heartbeat beneath his hands. “Didn't we?”

JJ doesn't remember much good about his time with Anti. He knows the taste of a human heart in his mouth. He was once chained against a wall so tightly he couldn't protest when the rats began to gnaw at him. At one point, he was so delirious and hurt that he believed he was dead for two weeks straight.

That's the good thing about his Brother. Not being allowed to leave this box doesn't matter, and neither do the occasional beatings or possessions Anti causes him, because Brother would never let anything half as horrible as the things Anti used to do to him happen anymore. Brother protects him from Anti – and protects everyone else in the world from Anti using his body.

He shudders at the memory of his teeth clamping down around the beating muscle his hands pulled from a stranger's chest. Blood leaking onto his tongue, warm as it filled his mouth. He was laughing. His fingers dug into soft, squishy organs, the filth filling up his broken nails, and his heart beat like the wing of a hummingbird beneath his ribs, making him dizzy with Anti's sick delight.

Yes. Brother protects him. Brother protects everyone. That's why he's here.

He's just beginning to lose consciousness from the cut-off of his oxygen when something stops Anti.

His head tilts and his ears perk up as he stills, paying attention to something JJ has not sensed yet. His mismatched eyes flicker back and forth as he thinks – and then a wide smile grows on his face.

“Please let go,” signs JJ, squirming.

“Someone... other than Marvin,” Anti mumbles. “Oh, this will be really good.”

JJ stills, blinking. Anti creeps to his feet, gazing through the front of JJ's box from the corner, trying to look without being seen. His eyes light up with a venomous light. He turns his smile towards JJ, eyes gleaming.

He crawls back into JJ's space, tucking a strand of his brother's hair behind his ear. JJ holds still as Anti leans close to him, whispering against his ear:

“Things are going to change for you now, my darling. But I'll see you again soon. I promise. So don't forget about me, child – not even for a moment.”

A cold kiss presses against the side of JJ's head.

Then Anti is gone, leaving only a faint and fading trail of glitching colors behind him.

JJ waits for a few moments, but he's so used to Anti's mannerisms he can't even be unnerved. He sighs, scattering the cards across the floor. Well, if Anti is gone, he'll have to find something else to do.

He reaches for his violin, getting to his feet and stretching a little before setting the bow down. Still, he can't shake a feeling that something in the air has changed for good.

.

Jackie treads on the solid floor of the endless mirror, his head tilted as he listens to the music.

“What the hell is this?” he whispers, creeping forward.

It's certainly not a portal to anywhere, not like it used to be, or at least this isn't the door. Instead there's some kind of box, a shed or a tiny house like on TV or maybe just a really weird puppet theater. The words “JJ's Jolly Jaunts” is spread across the top of the inside layer, behind bars, and it makes Jackie's stomach do a weird, foreboding turn that he doesn't understand.

Something about this is fucked up, that's all he knows. But if it has something to do with his missing brother – well, why wouldn't Marvin tell him? Has he been trying to find him? Is this some freaky memorial to him? Does Marvin think he's dead?

His next footstep lands heavily, echoing a little in the expanse. The music that he thought must have played from a speaker cuts off with a timid release of the violin bow from its strings, and he stops dead in his tracks.

Something is in here.

Someone is in here.

Being alarmed and weirded out, however, is only a catalyst for Jackie's curiosity, and the not-knowing becomes almost unbearable. He races towards the box, setting his tense fingers on the side of the barred window as he looks in.

There are decorations like fairy nights and pinned-up drawings of animals overhead a big red rug and a mattress with blankets and pillows disarrayed on top. A small curtain covers a corner in the back, stuffed animals stack against the wall opposite, and there are tupperware containers and cardboard boxes full of granola bars, dried fruits, cookies, and more. Art supplies scatter across the floor – paper and charcoal and bits of fabric and buttons. Jackie leans a little farther over the sill, his face nearly pressing against the bars around the outside, and he sees homemade puppets among the felt and sewing materials.

“This is fucked,” he mutters, turning to the left. Pressed closer, he can see some cleaning supplies. He turns to the right and –

Jackie rears back with a shout, his heart leaping into a double-time march.

Silence in the mirror realm. Nothing moves.

Deep breaths, Jackie. Deep breaths.

“Jameson?” he whispers, stepping cautiously back towards the cage. “I... is that you?”

It looked like him, for the moment where Jackie's eyes landed on him, a figured pressed against the closest corner of the box, clutching a violin like a shield and staring back at Jackie with wide eyes. But it couldn't be. Why would he be here? None of this makes sense, but the idea that comes closest – of course.

“Not Jameson,” he realizes, face darkening. “Anti. Right? Marvin caught you, didn't he? And he's... trying to get you out of Jameson's skin. Trying to make you let him go. You fucking parasite.”

There's a slight scraping of cloth on wood. Jackie tenses, licking his mouth, and waits for Anti to start laughing and step out to see him.

But nothing moves.

“If you're trying to get me to come closer, you missed your opportunity,” snarls Jackie. “Fuck, I can't believe – why wouldn't he tell me about this? It must have been just the last couple weeks that he caught you, since we fought just before. You've been possessing him this whole time, then, bastard? You're a creep. When I figure this out with Marvin, you'll never touch him again.”

And Jackie waits again, but... nothing.

This isn't like Anti. Not taunting? Not snarling and snapping or teasing Jackie over every failure he's ever been haunted by?

Why the pictures on the wall? Why all the stuffed animals? What the hell is going on?

“Forget you, then,” Jackie scowls. “I need to go talk to Marvin.”

He turns to walk away, back towards the portal, mind racing. He needs to talk to him before he gets more confused.

He touches the portal to leave.

Why the pictures? Turtles and bears and butterflies?

That's not Anti.

It must be.

Why the stuffed animals? A well-loved puppy, ratty with hugs and petting?

Anti wouldn't do that.

It only looks like Jameson because it's Anti. It has to be Anti.

Why any of this? The obvious time that's been spent in that box even though he saw Anti not a month past? The scared look on Anti's face as he hid from Jackie, something he's never done before? The violin music? Does Anti play violin now?

That is not Anti.

But it has to be, so –

“I need to talk to Marvin,” he repeats to himself, heart racing again. “I need...”

Marvin lied to me.

Marvin didn't tell me about this. Hid this. On purpose. Denied all of it a hundred times.

No. That's my little brother. I can trust him.

He lied.

And that –

It's Anti.

It's not Anti.

It has to be.

It isn't.

Looking back at this moment, Jackie will wonder what would have happened if he went through that portal and asked Marvin what was going. What he would have said. If he would have lied, if he would have made excuses. If he would have just been silent.

It doesn't matter now.

He knows that something is not right, and he can't trust Marvin – shit, he's never had that thought before, not once in his life – so he has to figure this out on his own.

He walks back towards that cage in the middle of the endless reflections of himself. In the mirrors, he can see himself walk towards the box from behind – steady, tentative steps, tense shoulders beneath a red jacket, hands in black gloves squeezed into fists. He can see himself from the side, with his mouth parted and his eyes fixed ahead. He can see his own face, looking into his own eyes, looking into the face he shares with his younger brother, the first younger brother he had, the one who made everything else worth having.

As he comes back towards the box, he realizes that whoever is in there must have thought he left like he said he would, because now he hears soft sobbing coming from inside. He hears the moment the violin is set aside with a slight thud, and cloth slides against the wood as the prisoner sits down on the floor. Jackie stands outside, listening, his eyes beginning to burn.

Not Anti. Not Anti. He knows. In his heart, yes – in his heart he already knows.

“Hello?” he calls.

The crying cuts off. Jackie closes his eyes. Deep breaths. Deep breaths, Jackie, even if this can't be true.

“Look, Anti,” he says. “If that's you, well. I hate your guts, but I still don't think you should be trapped in a box like this. Nobody should be. Come out and tell me what's going on and we'll figure this out.”

The prisoner doesn't bite.

“Okay,” sighs Jackie. “Um. Listen, I... I'm sorry I yelled. If you're not Anti, please let me know. I'm not going to hurt you. I was just surprised. And scared, I think. I don't know what's going on.”

A soft, shaky breath moves through the air.

“I'm going to come closer now,” says Jackie, straightening up. “I'm going to look at you again. Please don't scratch my eyes out or anything. Okay.”

He leans in for a second time, bringing his head close to the bars.

There he is. The prisoner in the corner. He's sitting down now, arms wrapped around himself. His face is mostly hidden in the knees drawn to his chest, but his eyes –

Big blue eyes look up at Jackie from beneath overgrown, mousy brown curls.

Jackie has never claimed to be good at reading others. He actually tends to miss plenty that other people seem to find obvious in mere expressions and gestures. But this...

No. He could never forget this exact look, these exact eyes. The eyes of the little brother that stared up at him for hours that night so many months ago when he lost him. The eyes that were looking at him when he lost consciousness and woke up to an empty bed and a missing piece of his heart. The fear and the confusion and the hope and the love all at once.

His Jameson.

Jackie bows his head and cries.

For long minutes he's bent over the side of that ledge by the box, one hand clinging to the bars behind which his youngest brother has been kept as a prisoner, and he can't seem to stop no matter how hard he tries. There is no noise from Jameson. Jackie can't look at him again. Can't bear it.

And then the soft brush of something against his hand startles Jackie from his breakdown, and he looks up to find a tissue pressed against his fingers.

JJ has brought him a tissue.

Jackie stares at him and Jameson looks back, ducking his head shyly now, even as he pulls Jackie's fingers around the Kleenex, plucking gently at his hand. Jackie takes the tissue. JJ backs away again, still holding that battered violin to his chest like a shield.

“Thank you,” croaks Jackie.

Jameson nods just a little, eyes fixed on him.

“Do you... remember me?” asks Jackie. “We were... it was so short. Just that night. And you were sick and confused. He'd been possessing you a long time and I just – do you remember at all or...?”

Jameson scoots a little closer, chewing at his nails for a second.

His fingers reach out to touch Jackie's again. Curl around the back of his hand and settle there. Soft.

He nods just a little a second time.

Yeah. He remembers.

“Jameson,” breathes Jackie.

He reaches for his hand in return. Their fingers lock together through the bars.

Laughter bubbles up in the empty coldness of the mirror realm, and after a moment Jackie realizes he is the one he's laughing.

“Yes,” he laughs, squeezing his hands, and JJ looks back at him in awe, letting his violin fall to the side. “Yeah, Jameson, my little brother. You remember me. You're alive! You're here! JJ, JJ... how do I get you out?”

He wants to be holding him. Now. Wants to wrap him up like the kittens Marvin used to sneak into the house and take him back to the world and never let him the fuck out of his sight again.

Jameson glances to the right of his box and Jackie goes racing around the side to find the opening. There's nothing but a half-door carved into the side and this is locked by a padlock with no keyhole. Jackie grabs the chunk of metal, frowning, and there – carved into the back of the metal are sigils that burn with heat even untouched in the coldness.

Magic.

He returns to JJ, taking his hand again.

“I'm going to get you out of here,” he says, and it's so true and so important in his chest that it hurts somehow to get the words out. “I'm here now and I will not let anything more happen to you.”

He wishes JJ would smile or nod or anything like that. But he just stares at Jackie with that big, starry awe in his blue eyes, and squeezes his hand softly, shuffling closer to him, staring. Jackie holds his breath as Jameson leans his head against the bars of his prison so his forehead almost touches Jackie's. He picks up the discarded tissue and presses it against Jackie's reddened cheeks, mouth parting.

Jackie clings to his hands and closes his eyes, letting his little brother brush his tears away.

“Jameson,” he says, just soft, though everything seems loud in the silence, in the emptiness, in the endless cold. “Tell me who did this to you.”

JJ draws away. There is a pause where he looks down at his toys and his animals and his art. His hands wrap around each other. He shrugs his shoulders weakly.

“Tell me,” says Jackie, reaching for him again. “Jamie, my Jamie. Tell me.”

His head already knows, but in his chest –

No.

Jameson chews at his nails for a second, big eyes flashing up to Jackie, and then he turns and points at the picture pinned to the wall above his mattress.

In JJ's charcoals, Marvin is thin and tired, but whoever drew the curve of his sorrowful mouth and detailed the light in his eyes loves him.

Jackie's heart stays steady. His eyes do not burn. His lets out just one more shaking breath.

Very well, then.

“Jameson,” he says. “I will be right back.”

.

“No! No, not even like that.”

“There's no scenario in which this works, Chase.”

“Guys, hear me out!” Chase cries, re-adjusting on the couch between them and snagging popcorn from Marvin's bowl. “Okay, so the earth is round – ”

“Well, he's got that much right,” says Marvin.

“Already better than I was expecting, to be fair,” agrees Henrik.

“The earth is ROUND,” re-iterates Chase, shoving them both. “So theoretically, if I got enough momentum, and there was a path that went all the way around... I could Heely the whole way round the earth.”

“No,” groan his siblings, throwing popcorn at him. “No, that still doesn't – ”

“Haters! Haters, the both of you!”

Marvin's laughing and antagonizing Chase by pushing him with his socked feet, trying to throw him off the couch while Henrik shields the cat from the fighting on the other side of the cushions. They've been talking about stupid shit for so long he's completely lost track of the plot of the movie they're watching, but it doesn't matter.

Nothing matters but them. And you know what, he feels good today, feels light and painless for the first time in a long time. For them to actually set aside the time for his birthday... well, that's the only thing he could have asked for. That and some earrings. And food. And a couple other things he wanted. But really the time together is the important stuff.

And here comes Jackie to complete them.

“Good afternoon, my darling, and will you be joining us?” he crows, letting his feet fall into Chase's lap instead of continuing to try and shove him off the couch. “Sit down with us and let's – um, Jackie?”

Why is he standing like that? Too still on the stairs. Wild, bouncy Jackie frozen stiff with his palm spread out against the wall, steadying him like a statue with a weak foundation. In his other hand: his fighting staff, extended and clenched so hard in his fingers that they have gone red with blood.

“Jackie?” asks Chase. All three of them are staring up at him by now, the TV playing loudly in front of them. “Everything okay?”

Jackie blinks at him a couple times, his face blank.

Henrik and Chase look at each other, eyebrows raising. Marvin's eyes are just fixed on their oldest brother. He realizes that his body has gone just as tense as Jackie's, his legs swinging off Chase's lap and setting firmly against the carpeted floor, a hand pressed against the cushion beside him.

Jackie starts shaking his head. Head low, eyes haunted.

“What's the matter?” asks Marvin.

Jackie shakes his head at him. His mouth is taut and his eyes narrow, angry like a wounded dog.

Marvin's throat is dry.

“What's the matter?” he repeats.

“Chase, Henrik,” says Jackie. “Go to Stacy's and stay there til I say you can come home.”

Chase pauses the movie, gaping at Jackie. Beyond the bizarre suddenness of the request, he never calls Schneep 'Henrik.' After a second, he moves to rise, but Henrik reaches across them to grab his arm and pull him back down.

“I don't think we're going anywhere, my friend,” says Henrik softly. “What's going on?”

“'Maybe Marvin can tell you,” Jackie answers.

Marvin can almost feel his own neurons firing. In a second, he has made the decision to lie through his teeth.

Because this isn't happening. He won't let this be happening. Jackie does not know – you've been scared that he does a million times before and they've all been false alarms, don't overreact, this is just some kind of misunderstanding – and he will never know. He will never, never know.

“Jackie, I don't know what's going on,” says Marvin sadly. “Tell us, please.”

“Yeah, Jackie, shit, you're freaking me out,” Chase agrees. “You want me to turn the lights off? You can lie down and – ”

“I'm fine,” says Jackie. “Marvin, you know, you – ”

“I don't know what's going on.”

“I went in your room.”

He laughs. Doesn't know why. “Okay?”

Henrik and Chase just look between him and Jackie. Jackie starts coming down the stairs. Heavy footsteps on the wood.

“Let's go look together.”

Marvin's smiling at his brother, his lip snarling a little.

He nightmared over this moment so many times. Is it really here? He always thought it would make him scared.

It just makes him angry.

Jackie doesn't know shit and it will stay that way. Stupid, naive Jackie. Marvin will lie his way out of this if he has to gaslight Jackie til Chase and Henrik call him crazy.

“There's nothing in there,” he says.

Jackie grabs him by the arm.

“Jackie!” calls Henrik, getting to his feet and setting his hands indignantly on his hips. Marvin wants to laugh again. Schneep is using his big, bad doctor voice, just like he would with any other argument in their house. Like they're fighting over who flooded the sink or whether to keep the kittens Queenie's pregnant with. Like it's just any other day.

There's no inkling in either him or Chase that this is Marvin's apocalypse. Somehow, it makes him feel powerful. Even if Jackie does have some idea of what's going on, only Marvin knows how deep this really goes.

“Don't grab him like that,” Henrik is scolding. “Now tell us what's going on or – ”

“Don't bother, Schneep,” says Marvin, staring right at Jackie. “He's angry. And you know Jackie when he's angry. He doesn't listen to anyone.”

Jackie's ears draw back and his mouth clamps tighter. He's gazing right back at Marvin. Heat like a geyser in his blue eyes.

“Let him drag me, whatever,” Marvin continues. “He'll realize he was wrong with whatever he's talking about later and come sobbing to me for forgiveness. 'Oh, Marvel, I was so mean, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry...'”

Jackie yanks him hard towards the stairs, ignoring Chase and Henrik shouting at them. Marvin lets him march him towards his room, but it's becoming less funny. His eyes burn and it seems difficult to breathe. His heart pounds against his ribs hard enough that Jackie might be able to feel it from his grip on him.

He can see Anti under Jameson's skin in days gone by, signing slowly at him, promising him that he'll regret what he's done. He laughs weakly as Jackie tears open the door of his room and shoves him inside.

“Jackie, don't push him!” shouts Chase, tugging on the back of Jackie's sweatshirt. “Hey, look at me!”

“Tell them what's in the mirror, Marvin.” Jackie advances on him. Marvin tries to move past him, but he won't let him. Pushing him back towards Jamie's mirror. “Tell them.”

“You've lost it, Jackie,” snaps Marvin.

“Jackie, what's gotten into you?” cries Chase. “Leave him alone! Marvin?”

Marvin wants to call to him – baby, it's okay, amata, don't worry – but how is he supposed to say that now, with Jackie pushing him towards that prison he created? In his heart, he wishes Chase would save him.

“Tell them what's in the mirror!” screams Jackie, and he lunges forward as his composure breaks, slamming Marvin into the wall beside the mirror. Marvin shrieks as his brother's hands wrap around his throat and pin him hard to the plaster. One of the cats is yowling in the doorway and Chase and Henrik are both yowling too, grabbing at them and trying to pull Jackie off, but he will not be moved.

“Tell me you're Anti!” Jackie howls. “You're possessing Marvin! Or he's blackmailing you! Tell me, tell me! My little brother! Tell me you didn't do this to him!”

Marvin does not know if he laughs or sobs in that moment.

Jackie throws him hard to the ground when he does not answer, his staff striking the ground beside his head. “You let him out of that cage, Anti! Now!”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” chokes Marvin.

“Jameson's in that mirror,” shouts Jackie, whirling on their younger brothers. “He's locked up like a fucking dog! Like an animal! This isn't Marvin, it's Anti!”

Marvin stares at the ceiling, writhing beneath Jackie's hands as Chase and Henrik back off, asking questions and exclaiming at Jackie as their oldest brother starts to relate what he saw. Marvin can't breathe.

A little box. A box with bars on the front and a magical lock on it. Him just lying all small inside, with his toys and violin and drawings and snacks. Jameson. Jameson.

Jackie knows.

Jackie knows!

A nightmare – it's a nightmare. It's a nightmare!

“Get off!” he screeches, and when Jackie doesn't budge Marvin opens his mouth and sinks his teeth into the hand holding his chin down.

Jackie yelps and draws back. Henrik jerks forward to keep Marvin down, now, clinging to his clothes.

“Marv, Marv,” chants Henrik, holding him carefully. “Hey. If you're in trouble, we'll figure this out. Just let's be calm. And if you're Anti – there's no point to running.”

“But Anti can't get in here,” Chase puts in, frustrated. “You guys know that. Marvin warded the place to hell and he doesn't know where the mirror that comes to our house is.”

“Chase, go check the warding,” orders Jackie. “Anti might have compromised him instead of possessing him. He must have been at it for months. That's why he's been acting so weird. Blackmail or something. I didn't think it was Anti because I thought you would have come to me if he were hurting you!”

No, no, no! Marvin grips at his head, giggling again. This is just a half-truth and their disapproval and fear and distrust is already too much to bear. If they find out the truth – if they know –

He was right, though! He had to do it!

“Come, my brother, up we get,” says Henrik, wrapping an arm gently around his waist. Jackie still looks like he wants to beat the demons out of him, but he lets Henrik handle him. Marvin slinks to his feet with his brother's arm around him and Henrik sits him down on his bed.

“Okay, now, tell us what's been going on,” he murmurs, brushing a few strands of hair from his eyes.

Marvin grips his wrist, dizzied. He doesn't want him to step back. He wants Henrik to stop this from happening.

“Has Anti been talking to you?” Henrik asks in a hush. “What has he done, my dear? You can tell us now. Is Jameson really there?”

His Schneep. He's as feral as a rabid squirrel most of the time, but then, when he needs him, his brother melts into soft touches and a quiet, even voice. Unflappable, reliable, steady Henrik. Marvin cups his chin, staring up at him.

“Don't touch him,” says Jackie darkly, standing posed like a toy boxer behind Henrik. “Don't put a hand on him.”

“The warding is fine,” calls Chase, coming back into the room. “Nothing smudged or anything.”

“Anti may be manipulating him from a distance,” says Henrik. “Threatening and holding things over him. Jameson... did he threaten to hurt him? Marvin, you were trying to protect him, yes?”

Jackie's stance slackens, his fingers loosening around the staff, and Marvin sees the moment where his eyes soften for him. Chase comes close too and stands beside Henrik, rubbing a hand along Marvin's shoulder.

“Breathe, amata,” he says. Sunny, starry Chase. His Chase. “It's gonna be okay, Marv. I promise. What did Anti do? He hurt you, huh?”

Marvin stares up at him, mouth parted. His eyes flicker towards his own figure in the mirror.

He knows JJ is back there. At this time of day, he's probably napping or playing his violin. Anti could even be in there with him now. He can see him now, black eyes and a wicked smile twisting up Jameson's mouth. He'd bite his teeth at Marvin behind the bars of the cage or coo threats and dark promises. He'd leave Jamie bleeding and ill and laugh about it.

He can see Jameson helpless in the middle of everything. Months and months of Jameson's helplessness. Curled up around himself, silent and dead-eyed in the corner, begging for Marvin's attention, scared and crying, playing with his puppets and toys like a two-year-old, writing music for Marvin, praying devout rosaries on his mattress, sleeping the day away. Hollow eyes. A big smile and then nothing on his face. Eating noodles with his hands and looking over new llama-patterned socks like they're a gift from God. Nosebleeds and fevers and coughs, enough to shake his whole chest.

And on the other side of that mirror, on the other side of the helpless intruder and the mad spirit that wears his flesh like an outfit: Marvin's family.

Chase. Jackie. Henrik.

Yes. Yes. He did what he had to do.

For months it has tormented him. Now Jackie knows. Lies won't help. Even this one, this tempting lie being offered to him by his hopeful brothers – the lie that Anti made him do it. They're looking so gently at him, but it's just another web to tangle him up and choke him for months. In the end, it won't protect him.

He did what he had to do.

He will make them see that.

.

JJ sits in his box, chewing his nails down to the bit. He takes a hangnail between his teeth and pulls it til the blood runs down his thumb.

He doesn't know what's going on.

He decides to pick up his violin again, setting the bow down and trying to breathe in and out, in and out, in and out, steady. Marvin always makes him take three deep breaths when he was beginning to freak out. Marvin hates it when he freaks out. So he will be calm. He will breathe – one, two, three – and play his music.

He feels that he can hear Marvin in the movement of his improv. M-Brother. The only person other than Anti he's ever really known.

His voice started out stern and hot and distant. His eyes would flash and he would stand at a distance as though afraid of Jameson biting him. He stayed with him very little and never touched him.

Marvin became scared, later. Jameson remembers the first part of his illness, when he was so sick he could barely stand on his own, but the second half, when he stopped being coherent, is lost to him. The only thing he recalls is the frantic rise of Marvin's voice, thinner and louder as the days went on.

Scared Marvin. Screaming Marvin. Cold Marvin. Comforting Marvin.

Flashes and glimpses. He rarely stays more than an hour.

Jameson plays long, sweet notes across the violin.

My brother protects me. Because I'm dangerous. Because I'm bad. If I'm good, maybe someone will hold me for just a few minutes.

Long, sorrowful notes.

He realizes he has transitioned from improv to the tune he wrote for Marvin's birthday. He lets the long notes pull across the violin. He will play it til it's perfect, so that, when Marvin is finally ready to hear it, it will be so excellent he will have to like it.

He misses a note and re-starts. He draws a rest out too long and restarts. He plays it too lifelessly and restarts. Restart again, again, again, one, two, three. It must be perfect. For Marvin. For his brother. His brother who protects him, and the only person in the whole world whom JJ loves.

He cannot see or hear anything beyond the mirror realm, but a part of him hears when Marvin starts to cry.

.

“I locked Jameson up to keep you safe,” says Marvin. “That's all.”

Large eyes looking back at him. Chase and Henrik exchange looks again, passing thoughts between gazes. Jackie's just staring at him.

Marvin raises his chin and stares back.

The tears are running down his face, but he doesn't sob and he doesn't wheeze and he does not let his expression break.

He did what he had to.

“Keep us safe?” Chase repeats.

“It's not his fault,” says Marvin. “I know that. But Anti uses him as a weapon and there are few few things we can do about that. The two of them are connected – Anti can find him anywhere and Jameson has no defense against that kind of power. He's just a mortal kid. I've been looking for a way to protect him from Anti's interference, or at least stop Anti from being able to locate him, but it's complex magic. In the meantime, I had to keep him away from you. That day he stabbed you...”

Marvin's eyes flicker to Chase's chest. He remembers the dark wound in his shoulder and the ache in his brother's movements for weeks. The fear as the blood poured out and Jackie dragged the thrashing monster off Chase's body and choked him til he passed out.

“I couldn't let that happen again.”

They still don't say anything. A part of him screams at them to speak, begging for anything in reply, but the other half of him is desperate for the quiet. If they tell him how they feel it could break him in half.

“I didn't tell you,” he continues. “And I lied to you about it many times. I'm sorry. I don't know how to express to you how much it has hurt me over the time it's gone on. I know that doesn't make it right, but I want you to know I have always wanted to tell you. But I knew that if I did... you wouldn't agree.”

A faint, thin laugh from Chase. “This is a joke, yeah? Of course we wouldn't agree. How could you think that – ?”

“Because none of you have the guts to make this call,” replies Marvin before he can even finish, voice raising. “Don't you see? You all wanted him to just live here with us, hoping we'd be able to restrain him if Anti came! But that's not realistic. He would have fucking killed you! Jackie, you're too empathetic, Chase can't even kill a spider, and Henrik – ”

Henrik is staring at him, face unreadable. Marvin deflates, shaking his head.

“Henrik didn't deserve to have to make that call, even if he could. I'm older. I was the one with the means to hide him away. I – ”

“This is a lie,” Jackie interrupts him, sudden and loud. “This is a lie.”

Marvin says nothing. Meets his eyes and waits.

“Marvin?” asks Chase. “This isn't true, right?”

Chase – well, his eyes Marvin can't meet.

Chase looks to Henrik and Jackie, mouth open, bewildered.

“My little brother?” he asks in a small voice.

“Boys,” says Henrik, sighing. “Okay, deep breaths. Let's not get worked up. Of course it is not true. Anti is... he still has something over him. Marvin cannot speak freely. He is protecting us I would guess. Anti has made threats, perhaps cast spells or things like this. Forced Marvin to cast spells. Or he has a way to possess him. We must find Anti and deal with him before we can get anywhere.”

Henrik's voice is sure and cool, but Chase and Jackie don't respond to his call to action. Henrik turns firmly back to Marvin and cups his chin, stroking his thumb across his beard. “We will make this right, my brother,” he says. “I promise.”

“You said Anti didn't have Jameson, though,” says Chase, pushing forward. “Anti told you that, the last time you fought.”

“The second to last time we fought,” Jackie corrects. “Yes, he said that he didn't have Jameson. Then I saw him not a month ago. He didn't say anything about Marvin. But... right after that was when Marvin had that encounter with him.”

“Guys,” Marvin offers wearily. “It's not – ”

“Marvin wouldn't do this to our younger brother,” scoffs Henrik. “Locking him away! It's terrible.”

“I've taken care of him,” cries Marvin. “I have, he – ”

“Can I see him?” Chase's voice seems to be fainter with every sentence he speaks. “I never got to meet him, just Anti. We've talked about him for so long.”

“You – you used to help me go out looking for him.” Jackie whirls on Marvin again, eyes burning. “No, tell me this isn't true.”

“He would have killed you,” hisses Marvin, his eyes watering again.

“So that means you caged him like an animal?”

“Marvin can't have done this,” Henrik insists. “Marvin can't have.”

“I don't know what's going on,” says Chase, starting to cry. “Can I please see Jameson?”

“Maybe Jackie's the one possessed,” says Henrik, backing suddenly away from his oldest brother and putting a hand on Marvin's shoulder. “Maybe that's why Marvin is acting this way. Anti will blame him for what he's done to Jameson.”

“He's in a cage in there! When was the last time he's been out of there? How long has it been?”

Jackie's question seems to quiet everyone again. All eyes turn back to Marvin.

“How long what?”

“How long has it been since you let him out of there?” asks Jackie, voice dangerous again. Stance dangerous.

Jackie has never looked dangerous to Marvin before this moment.

Marvin breathes in through his nose, trying to find an answer. He wants to come clean – wants to show how justified he was – but it sounds so cruel when it's said out loud.

“He's been missing for seven months,” says Jackie, voice trembling. “If this is true, what you're saying, then he's been your prisoner for seven months. Right?”

“Yes,” says Marvin softly.

“Marvin. Has he been inside that box this whole time?”

Silence. Silence. Silence.

Jackie turns away from him, breathing thinning out. Chase is just shaking his head. Henrik's still at Marvin's side.

Jackie looks back to them, poised like he's about to pounce.

“Jackie,” warns Henrik, holding a hand out. “It's not true, it – ”

“Just let him out of the box,” whispers Jackie.

Marvin licks his mouth.

Draws a breath.

Shakes his head.

Jackie cocks his head at him, frowning. “What? What was that? Are you saying no?”

The disbelief in the air seems heavy on his shoulders.

Helpless Jameson. Snarling Anti.

Chase. Jackie. Henrik.

Chase. Jackie. Henrik.

Chase. Jackie. Henrik.

Had to.

Has to.

“Yes,” says Marvin. “I said no. Jameson is a threat to you. I won't let him out of the box.”.

Jackie has a grip on Marvin's shirt collar in a flash, shoving him down onto the bed. Henrik yelps and tries to pull him away again, and now Chase is sobbing openly somewhere in the background, and the cat starts to mewl again. Jackie's screaming. Jackie's screaming at him. Jackie's screaming everything Marvin was ever afraid that he would say.

“Like an animal, you locked him up like an animal! You knew I loved him and you took him away from me! You – you knocked me out that night! Fucking traitor! Marvin, Marvin! How could you do this to me?”

Marvin cries against the bed. Jackie slams him back, once, twice.

“Jackie,” Henrik wails, and honest to God Marvin has never heard him that scared.

“How could you do this to him?” Jackie screeches, squeezing his shirt til the buttons below pop. “He didn't deserve it. He was just a victim! You lied to me so many times! I wanted him, you knew how badly I needed him back! You let me think that Anti had him, and then that he was missing from everybody! Do you know how many sex trafficking rings I busted looking for him? How many times I spent my nights under bridges or in drug dens looking for him, trying to make sure everyone was safe?”

“Jackie,” sobs Marvin. “Love, you do all that anyway.”

“But I didn't use to wonder if it would be my baby brother when I found homeless men dead in the streets,” Jackie answers, and it's now that Marvin realizes he's sobbing too. “I didn't use to carry teenagers to the emergency room after they'd overdosed because they just got mixed up with the wrong people, people who should have looked after them, and then spend the rest of the week wondering if anybody would carry my baby brother like that if the same thing was happening to him. I didn't used to clean up trafficking victims and see every one of those bruises and cuts and markings and diseases on his skin too.”

Marvin's crying too hard to breathe. He takes hold of Jackie's sweatshirt and cries, shaking his head up at him.

“I love you,” he manages, choking and sobbing. “I love you, I love you.”

“I searched for him! Cried over him, nightmared about his little body washing up on the beach! That one night I had him, he looked up at me like I made the world spin, just because I showed him a few minutes of kindness. He had just finally in his life gotten some kindness. Why did he deserve this?”

“I love you,” Marvin chants, because what else can he say? Jameson never deserved it. He always knew that. It's just that his brothers also deserved better – deserved to be safe from Anti – and that was all that mattered.

That is still all that matters.

“Let him out of there,” wails Jackie. “Now, now, fucking traitor, let him out!”

But Marvin keeps shaking his head. No. No!

Jackie screams in frustration and draws his arm back. Marvin flinches and jerks his head away.

And in the middle of all the chaos and all the turmoil inside his chest, he thinks that that moment is clear as day to both of them, because they realize at the exact same time that Jackie almost hit him.

Marvin gapes up at him. Jackie still has his fist drawn back.

His big brother almost hit him.

Marvin lies there, breathing thick, wet breaths. Jackie holds that fist up, shocked.

Then his hand lowers, and for just one second, his fingers stroke down Marvin's cheek.

It's bizarre, later, that Marvin knows exactly what Jackie is seeing in that moment – his little brother. His only little brother, back before any of this. Bright green hair and a silly Game Grumps cape. A cat mask and a blue shirt. They go racing through the city causing trouble together and come home laughing like wild. They make Old Fashioneds and drink while they watch comedy specials on Netflix til the sun comes up. Marvin brings his first cat home and they both spoil her rotten, spending hours playing with her or just watching her run on her wheel, til their phones are both full with pictures of her. They cook together, setting the fire on kitchen more than once, and they catch bad guys like real life superheroes, cackling with triumph as they review their victories over sweet wine and take-out. When they get sick, they look after each other, even if they do make fun the whole time. Marvin runs away once and then comes home again, and Jackie squeezes him so tight it actually leaves a couple bruises on him, and Marvin allows himself, for the first time in his life, to be loved.

He promises Jackie he will never run away again when his hair is still bright green, and Jackie hugs him again, and the world is right there – the world is that place where their hands wrap around each other. The world is the syncing of their heartbeats and the vibration of Jackie murmuring his thousandth “I love you” into Marvin's ear, and Marvin giving his first one back.

There was nothing else that mattered.

A young man with green hair and a blue cape. His baby brother, smiling.

Marvin.

Jackie's fingers pull away. The spell breaks.

“Get out of my fucking house,” Jackie whispers, releasing him with shaking fingers.

Marvin shakes his head, letting out a long breath. “What?”

“I said get out,” says Jackie.

His voice is tight, and it trembles just a little, taut with stress, but he forces it calm.

“You've lost it,” says Marvin. “It's... Jackie, it's me. I'm not going anywhere.”

Jackie doesn't look at him anymore. He straightens up, wiping his hand down his face.

“Jackie,” Marvin repeats. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“If you stay here,” says Jackie, voice very low. “I'm going to lock you in the garage with a box of granola bars and a pile of stuffed animals. Then we'll see how 'justified' you were.”

Marvin stares, a faint laugh coughing its way up his throat. He looks to Chase and Henrik, but Henrik seems to have gone numb, just listing between the three of them with his hands held out like he's not sure what to do, and Chase is turned towards the door. His face is scrunched up and furious, and there are hot, swift tears running down his face.

Marvin's heart aches. “My little brother, amata,” he says. “Look, I'll make this right. Just tell Jackie – ”

“I,” says Chase, very clearly. “Am not your brother.”

Even Jackie winces a little. Henrik stares blankly at Chase, unable to register the words.

And Marvin –

Oh, he's been punched in the stomach. He can't get any air in.

“And I think you should get the fuck out,” spits Chase. “Cause I never want to see you again.”

He leans down, scoops up Queenie, and vanishes through the door of Marvin's room.

Marvin might honestly collapse. He's taken back to every time he's gotten so stressed over holding JJ captive that it made him sick, and suddenly, all of those moments seem like a cakewalk, and he knows that he could more easily have lived with the guilt and the crushing weight of what he did for a hundred years more rather than hear Chase say that to him even once.

It leaves him so hollow that he can't seem to think of anything else, and the pain of everything else fades too, like he's reached the max of some limit he didn't know he had and now he'll just be a confused zombie for the rest of his life. Before he knows what he's doing, he's packing a few of his things into a bag. Henrik is gone somewhere, he doesn't know. And Jackie is standing there like a prison guard, in silence.

Marvin's in the entryway of their house in what seems to be a half-second, staring at the mirror that will take him back to the realm of the world. He manages to regain just enough awareness to turn back to Jackie behind him, dizzy.

“Call me in a couple days,” he manages. “Let me know where we're at. I'll find someone to stay with for a little while. But once you talk to JJ and see that I've treated him well, that I loved him – and once you have time to think about why I did what I did – you'll understand.”

Jackie doesn't say anything. He's staring at the wall.

“Promise me,” Marvin chokes. “Promise me you'll call.”

“Fine,” says Jackie quietly.

Marvin turns to the mirror, and then looks back again.

Jackie walks away from him without another word.

Marvin steps through the mirror. He's taken the portal that's closest to Henrik's hospital without thinking, and now he's practically in the middle of the city, standing in an alleyway with a single bag over his shoulder and a crushing weight in his chest. The people are rushing by around him. Everything is loud and bright and bursting, but he can't seem to take any of it in.

“Marvin.”

Just... just this terrible combination of dissociation and debilitating pain.

“Marvin, Marvin.”

Hands cup his face. He blinks and looks up.

Henrik. His Henrik. He followed him through the mirror.

“It's okay, I'll go with you,” promises Henrik, pressing their heads together, a bag of his own packed up on his back. “We'll figure this out. I know it wasn't you, Marvin. I know you wouldn't really do that. We're going to be okay, my poor brother. Here I am, Marvin. Here I am.”

Marvin collapses into his arms and weeps.

#marvin's cage #bee writes #jse egos #writers of jack

[appleflavoredkitkats]

Who Are the Four Horsemen of the Dream SMP Apocalypse?

Art by: Viktor Vasnetsov

[TW’s: torture, death, murder, manipulation, alcohol, substance abuse, discussions about the end of the world, religion, starvation, violence, implied gambling, blood, alcoholism]

Word Count: 3.5k

INTRODUCTION

Hopefully I finish this before I feel too sleep-deprived, but I’ve been thinking about the presence of horsemen in Quackity’s “My Enemies” stream. These mysterious, hooded figures are quite odd to say the least, and their involvement with Las Nevadas still remains unknown. There has been a debate on whether there were three horsemen or four, and in my opinion, I believe that there are four horsemen present.

Why four? In the first scene, three horsemen arrive at the Dream SMP on a dark and stormy night. They seem to have come from the south, entering Eret’s castle from the back. As they stop to pull their Netherite swords out, air raid sirens are heard from the distance.

Similarly, in the last scene, Quackity is seen placing a book in Wilbur’s memorial before leaving, riding his skeleton horse, Ossium. The scene cuts from first person POV to third, and we see a hooded figure, presumably Quackity because of how both came from the same direction. Additionally, air raid sirens are also heard from a distance.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT!]

I theorize that these two scenes take place at the same time. The prequel scenes only began after we see the sequence of Quackity torturing Dream, and it ends after the flashbacks of Wilbur. We can synthesize that both these scenes are set at the same time, and that these horsemen are going to meet at a certain point on the prime path.

What may suggest that these four horsemen are supposed to be parallels to the biblical four horsemen?

Firstly, seeing the bits they do, Quackity and Schlatt do know a lot of biblical references. Schlatt has compared Tubbo to Jesus once, and Quackity has said many prayers as jokes in the Dream SMP. It’s just… easy to take inspiration from biblical symbols and references, and also, the four horsemen are just very popular figures in history, so you know, why not?

Also, this may also sound RIDICULOUS, but the fact that this stream establishes that Tommy got resurrected three days after he got killed is actually very reminiscent of, well, you guessed it, Jesus Christ. 72 hours is oddly specific, and I don’t think the cc’s made it that way for no reason. Tommy’s parallels to Jesus—which is a VERY funny phrase—could imply that the Dream SMP might draw more parallels to Christianity, and the four horsemen could be another one of these references.

Also, Quackity mentioned how in Las Nevadas, he made four casinos for him and the rest of El Rapids. So, we know four is a number we can associate with Las Nevadas, and there’s a chance Quackity gave these casinos to three other people. Four casinos, four horsemen.

What is the purpose of the four horsemen in the Dream SMP? When the air raid sirens went off, we can think of these four horsemen as the bringer of chaos or danger into the Dream SMP, very reminiscent of the purpose of the original four horsemen in Christianity. We can also connect it to the end of the world, as these four only appear when the world begins to end. This can imply that these four, who are most likely allies of Quackity in Las Nevadas, are somewhat connected to how the Dream SMP will end.

Now, who is who? Admittedly, it is difficult to find a definitive answer on which member represents what horseman, so I’ll try my best considering all the possibilities for each. I’ll add my own ranks on how probable I think they are, but I have to specify that these are subjective- I am not a beacon of truth, y’all.

So let’s get started.

Firstly, I want to discuss who might NOT be a horseman to narrow it down a bit:

Any minors might not be involved. In Sam’s face reveal stream, aka the first stream mentioning Las Nevadas, Quackity and Sam agree they don’t want Tubbo and Tommy to participate in underage gambling. Don’t know if this applies to Ranboo and Fundy (since he might be canonically a child? Who knows), so they get more of a pass, but the clingy duo might not.

The Syndicate. I’d like to think that the Syndicate, as well as Dream, are Quackity’s main foils of the server. As they are the richest and also the most skilled in PVP, Quackity stands no chance against them even with his sharp tongue. As these people are foils against Quackity, and also probably hate his guts, Quackity might not hire them at Las Nevadas. I theorize he’d probably use Dream as a watchdog against the Syndicate, but that’s a theory for another time. 

Additional point about Dream: he’s in prison.

Anyone from Kinoko Kingdom because it’s clear Quackity severed all ties with them.

The Eggpire is half-half. They can possibly join, but also can’t, Quackity can manipulate them into joining only for their inevitable demise, or Quackity wouldn’t wanna associate with them after the explosion incident. They’ll at least get a few passes in some categories, but again, not entirely sure.

CONQUEST

Also known as Plague, Pestilence, and in some occasions, both Jesus Christ and the Antichrist, Conquest is shown to be riding on a white horse, donning a victor’s crown and a bow. There are many interpretations of Conquest, especially with their ambiguous morality. Some people can perceive them as bad, representing the origin of many wars. Some people claim that they represent pestilence and plague as their arrows are slathered with the infections they want to spread. In some cases, they can also be interpreted as good, as their description is heavily reminiscent of Jesus Christ himself. Others would rebut that there is also a possibility that they might be a fake replica of Jesus created by Satan, thus making them the antichrist.

Sam (8/10)

Sam is my first choice when it comes to Conquest because, firstly, he fits the appearance. He is one of the only people in the Dream SMP who dons a crown, and they also possess a bow which they frequently use. I’d say that Sam as Conquest matches with his ambitions as a member of the Badlands, Pestilence or Plague match with his possible crimson infection, and Antichrist matches with his inability to keep Tommy, the possible Jesus figure on the SMP, alive or safe. 

My only issue is: would Sam be one of the three who arrived at the Dream SMP in the beginning? Sam is very strict with his job as warden, so it is unlikely that he would be seen far from it.

Any of the Eggpire (7/10)

As Conquest is heavily depicted with pestilence or plague, any of the Eggpire may fit under this category. As their goal as the Eggpire is meant to conquer the Dream SMP, this also matches with the goal of Conquest. Additionally, one of the Egg’s weaknesses is Church Prime, something heavily resembling Christianity, so if the Egg is its opposite, we can view the Egg as somewhat of an antichrist. 

I say Punz, Bad, Ponk, and Hannah have a higher chance of being Conquest, while Ant is a solid ‘maybe’. Punz could’ve been the one who blew up the Egg, Bad can be easily persuaded by Quackity, Ponk is one of the only capitalists of the server that may participate in Las Nevadas, and Hannah’s character heavily fits the theme of pestilence when it comes to nature. Additionally, I like to believe that Conquest was the horseman on the skeleton horse (that isn’t Quackity’s), especially since they were holding a dandelion in one shot, something that could be attributed to “pestilence” because a dandelion is a weed. This may imply that Hannah could be part, but because they haven’t interacted much beforehand, we wouldn’t be sure. More insight on Punz: he once mentioned he upholds his duties as mercenary more than he might love the Egg, so there’s a chance Quackity bribed him to join Las Nevadas.

The main con to this is that: why would the Eggpire willingly join Quackity, or why would the Egg allow them to join Quackity? I can see that Quackity might break their brainwashed states because he has a good way with words, but people like Bad, Ant, and Punz have stated that they’ve been fully controlled by the Egg. Also, Quackity makes it clear he wants to eradicate his enemies, so he might not want any members of the Eggpire to join Las Nevadas… unless there’s a traitor?

Schlatt, Mexican Dream, or Wilbur (6/10)

Heavily connected with winning if you take Manberg, Mexican L’Manberg, or L’Manberg into mind.

Wilbur also has a memorable crossbow, but I don’t know if that counts as a bow.

Any dead characters have a high chance of joining Las Nevadas because of its possible connections to death and the revival system of the SMP.

Other possibilities with short explanations and low but possible odds:

Eret: Has a crown, his betrayal can be seen as a “win”, has Tommy’s bow from the duel. Can be seen as an antichrist figure.

Jack: As he is against Tommy, he can be seen as an antichrist figure. Might be working with Las Nevadas because of his deal with Quackity.

Ranboo: He’s a minor, but he also has a crown and a bow so, maybe? He’s not much of a conqueror or winner, though.

Connor: Didn’t really conquer much, didn’t really win much, he’s just here because of Schlatt, honestly.

WAR

War is depicted to be holding a raised sword as they ride atop a red horse. After conquest, war is expected to follow, and War is tasked to break any type of peace on earth. He is tasked to kill, or make humans kill each other. The prominence of red symbolizes bloodshed or immense anger, something very present in war. Multiple depictions of War show him with his sword raised upwards, signifying the start of a battle.

Schlatt (9/10)

The man’s literally torn the Dream SMP apart (/lh). This man is always keen on fulfilling his goals, and if it means he’ll have to fulfill them in the most twisted of ways, he will do it. Him winning the Election brought immense conflict in the Dream SMP, and many people were torn apart on which side was the right or wrong side. One of Schlatt’s prominent colors besides blue would be red, as it is the color of his tie and the color of his ghost form’s horns. Red could represent the bloodshed of those who died during the Manberg-Pogtopia conflict, or red can signify the anger Schlatt had for his own cabinet.

Schlatt was also gifted a sword by Dream called “Shclatt”. The sword only holds heavy significance because of how Fundy treasured it like an heirloom.

Wilbur (8/10)

Another good possibility too as Ghostbur was recently seen to admire red a lot more than blue in one of Tommy’s streams. We can also view the creation of L’Manberg as a place that broke the peace in the Dream SMP as they didn’t really NEED to create L’Manberg and declare war, yet, he did. Red can also resemble his anger for what has been done to L’Manberg- everything is pretty self-explanatory, honestly.

My only qualm with Wilbur being one of the horsemen is how we can’t really… tell if he’s in the Dream SMP? He seems to be very clear on the fact that he does NOT want to return, so he might not even be there when the four horsemen became a thing.

Any of the Eggpire (7/10)

Honestly? Same reasoning as the first explanation for the Eggpire. This also applies for why they might not be one of the horsemen.

Do I even need to explain the red part, or do we just all understand that red is literally their brand.

The Eggpire practically breaks peace in the server and is keen on taking control of the entirety of the Dream SMP. The Egg is shown to be ruthless towards anyone, and will even let some of its followers kill people if needed. 

I see Bad as someone who might qualify for this position more because he initiates a lot of the activity in the Eggpire. Same goes for Ant, Punz, and Ponk, but they don’t really take initiative most of the time.

Jack Manifold (4/10)

The only reason I kind of added him here was that he wanted to kill Tommy, but Jack isn’t entirely selfish or peace-breaking. I do think he might play a role in Las Nevadas, especially since if Quackity has access to the nukes, only Jack and Ranboo might be the only two who helped him gain access.

Jack is also… very angry at Tommy. Rightfully so, because he basically surrounded a good portion of his life trying to kill Tommy only for him to realize that that might not be his purpose in life. He blames Tommy for a lot of the loss in the server, so he has a lot of anger, but he has no one to vent it all out to.

Other possibilities with short explanations and low but possible odds:

Eret: Did the first betrayal, but that’s about it. He’s also participated in several wars against others who disagreed with him being the king.

Ranboo: Participated in wars, but is a peacemaker so, y’know.

Fundy: While he does possess Schlatt’s sword, he isn’t much of an initiator of wars as much as he is merely a follower. He has shown that he is quite angry at those who have used him, but the anger has dissipated lately into some sort of sadness/denial.

Connor: He’s mournful that Schlatt, a close friend, has died, but he isn’t really one to be angry. He tried living far away to make his own independent nation, but it didn’t impact much of the story. He also one possessed “Ghostbur’s Stabbing Knife”, which could represent the sword.

FAMINE 

Famine is seen to be holding a scale (presumably for food) as they ride atop a horse. Famine is also denoted to be the only one speaking, saying “A quart of wheat for a denarius! And three quarts of barley for a denarius! But don’t ruin the oil and the wine!”. This statement basically means that we have to pay a full day’s worth of earnings for a bit of wheat and barley but oil and the wine, something not considered human necessities, can have the same prices. This shows an unfairness when it comes to acquiring basic human necessities. This is especially damaging to the poor as Famine’s statement can possibly make the poor poorer, while the rich remain the same. It is implied that the wider the gap between the poor and the rich, the closer we are to the end of the world.

Fundy (9/10)

This may be a long answer because I am biased towards Fundy, but Niki once stated that Manberg was in some sort of a famine because of the destruction of farms. Because of this, certain citizens have resorted into eating spider eyes from the EXP farm, but it was notable that she was practically calling out Fundy, someone who literally advertised spider eyes to any person he talked to in the Dream SMP.

Fundy is also hinted to be heavily connected to these hooded figures somehow. In his dream, he was chased by one until he slept in a black bed, the color of Famine.

Additionally, in his dream, he held baked potatoes (food) which could be related…? He’s also a libra so… scales…?

He is also a notorious prankster in the Dream SMP and will bargain for anything as long as he profits from it. He’s not the richest by any means, but he loves doing pranks that involve stealing belongings from other people.

Schlatt (8/10)

Similar reason to Fundy as he was the president of Manberg responsible for these famines. Additional note for this is that he also taxed Niki, one of their only food sources in Manberg. 

Schlatt also likes to joke around about being rich, earning money, or being a businessman often, especially with the entire Schlatt coin joke. Connected to Famine’s trait of making the rich richer, possibly?

Famine’s statement can also apply here as it is implied that if humanity doesn’t possess the basic of necessities, they might at least have wine which won’t provide any solutions to humanity’s starvation at all, but it will distract you from your starvation by making you heavily drunk until you finally die. This is very reminiscent of how Schlatt died.

Sam (6/10)

Sam is one of the richest people on the server, matching Famine’s want to keep the rich rich. Only problem here is that Sam is at least very generous and provides a lot of people with resources when needed.

Sam could possibly be connected to Famine because of how he treats Dream in prison. In an attempt to torture Dream, he starves him, cutting his food supply.

Same problem remains with Sam not being able to join whatever the hell the four horsemen are because of his duties as warden.

Any of the Syndicate (1/10)

Only giving an exception here because the Syndicate is exceptionally rich and is more selfish about it than others. Low chances, but Ranboo… might? But it’s still a bit iffy for me. Niki might as well because of her connections to the Manbergian famine, but still on the fence with this one too.

DEATH

Death is often depicted riding a pale horse, but some variations have called the horse light green. Death does not don a weapon themselves, but they are always accompanied by Hades. Hades in Christianity is the place or state of the departed spirits, meaning Death has contact with those who have died. Sometimes, Death is depicted with a scythe similar to the Grim Reaper, but some say Death has no weapon at all as Death themself is the weapon. Death is not only meant to collect souls and end lives, but they can also represent the end of an era of humanity.

Quackity (10/10)

I would say Quackity can fit any other category, but I am so sure that Quackity is death because of how death and toying with death seems to be one of Quackity’s main themes in the Dream SMP. Quackity, once hesitant about killing others, has been shown to now impulsively want to kill others: first with Techno, then Ranboo, then Dream. 

Quackity will also most likely acquire information about revival on the Dream SMP, so he is in close proximity with Hades, or in the Dream SMP, the Void. This also heavily ties in with the idea that he will make others gamble away their canon lives only for him to resurrect or return their canon lives if they ever successfully gamble it back. 

Quackity is also known to be very powerless in terms of PVP and battle, but you know what he succeeds in? His own words. He is his own weapon that can get him whatever he wants as long as the person he’s up against is in a vulnerable position. 

He is also confirmed to be one to have a skeleton horse, and some depictions of Death’s horse show that it is very corpse-like.

A bloody scythe can also be seen in Quackity’s first lore teaser, and that can be attributed to Death.

Other possibilities with short explanations and low but possible odds:

Schlatt: First owned the revival book but he literally does not know its contents. Fits the “they are their own weapon” trait.

Dream: The only exception I can give. But again, he is literally in prison…?

Wilbur & Mexican Dream: Only putting these two here because they have experienced death. These two fit the “they are their own weapon” category too.

Connor: Wants to revive Schlatt, but that’s it.

CONCLUSION

Honestly, my first conclusion for the four horsemen were Sam/Conquest, Schlatt/War, Fundy/Famine, and Quackity/Death, but I only see Quackity as Death to be something that is HIGHLY possible. For Conquest, I shift between Sam and one of the Eggpire, for War, I shift between Wilbur and Schlatt, and for Famine, I shift between Fundy and Schlatt. Again, no definitive answer, but I’d love to hear your own thoughts on this.

I am very tired, but also remember to reblog if you do enjoy this! Again, would love to hear your own insights, and would appreciate any type of discussion! :D

#dream smp #dream smp analysis #mcyt #quackity #fundy #wilbur soot #jschlatt #connoreatspants #badboyhalo #long post

[yeojaa]

( VELVETEEN RABBIT. )

What do you get when you mix Thumper and Bambi?  Answer:  Jeon Jungkook.

pairing.  french lop bunny!jjk x ragdoll cat f!reader.

genre + rating.   hybrid!au set in college.  super fluffy, a little angsty, with a dash of smut to balance it all out.  explicit towards the end because i just can’t help myself.  oops.

tags / warnings.  honestly, this jungkook should just come with his own warning.  but more realistically, mentions of kook using a scrunchie, kook being cute, kook railing his date after using the world’s worst puns...  the usual.

wc.  4.4k

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ as always become, c’mon.  i’m me.  she’s her.  

author note.  this was written as part of @thebtswritersclub​‘s a hybrid fest and is gloriously late (i’m so sorry @ditttiii​​).  i’ve never written anything hybrid-related before so hopefully you enjoy.  feedback goes a long way!  xoxo

He orders the same thing every time he’s in.  Iced Americano, no room for cream, and a single almond croissant.  (Every once in a while, he switches it up for matcha but that’s exceedingly rare.)  He always pays with a tap of his wrist - a sleek black AppleWatch with rubber band - and flashes his trademark slightly too-big smile.  All the girls swoon.  So do the guys.  Everyone except for you.

He’s unnervingly handsome, with long dark ears that sometimes hang in front of his eyes.  You’ve caught him with them pulled back Lola Bunny-style, knotted with a loose silk scrunchie that looks nearly as soft as his fur.  His hair’s usually unkempt, tossed into a little sprout of a bun, overly long fringe falling all over his big round eyes.  He wears butterfly clips sometimes, though that’s usually on days where he isn’t freshly sweaty and carrying his gym bag.  They appear in his hair when it’s damp from a shower, the smell of papaya and honey clinging to every inch of him.  You know, because you have a great nose - one that’s sensitive to every smell under the sun but especially his.  (You try not to think about it much.)  

It’s a Wednesday morning when you notice the change.  It doesn’t register at first, acknowledgement coming in a curious sniff at the air.  Weird. 

“Thanks,” he says like clockwork, a well-oiled polite machine, deceptively slender hands receiving the exceedingly hot cup without a care in the world. He’s got his usual bag over his shoulder - overly big, black, almost tactical - and a pair of comfortable looking pants on that seem more like they belong on your beloved grandmother.  Somehow, he rocks it (but he always does).  “Have a nice day.”

Because of course he says that.  Of course he steals the words right out of your mouth, turns them back on you as easy as he makes your heart rattle around in your chest like it’s a Friday night bingo ball. 

He moves toward the bar - he only ever grabs three napkins, tucks them into the slot on the left side of his bag - but pauses halfway there.  Rooted to the same spot as always, sleek ears following the imposing line of his shoulders.  

One, two—

The thumping starts, so quiet it’s almost negligible.  But you catch it, because you always do and because you’re the reason for it. 

He turns then, levels you with a look from the corner of those pretty, pretty eyes and you can’t help but laugh, openly, unashamedly, with the back of your hand plastered to your mouth. A true ojou-sama. 

His mouth quirks - does that funny thing where he sucks in his cheek then rolls it back out with his tongue - and you think he might finally say something.  Call you out for writing his name wrong for the past five weeks, finding more and more creative ways to do so every time.  Even occasionally using nicknames - silly things you’d come up with while on the walk home, or during lunch, or in bed.

“Good one,”  he states, laugh lines threading over his face, prominent around his eyes.  His nose wiggles with the sound - another of his traits that comes out to play often.  Your favourite of them all, if you’re being honest.

“Anytime.”  

You don’t realise it’s him until it’s too late, until you’re practically running into him, bouncing off the broad expanse of his back with a startled squeak.  Lucky for you, you’re quick on your feet, catching yourself before your skull can become too well-acquainted with the red brick wall to your right.

“You okay?”  Though he asks, you have a sneaking suspicion he knows you’re not and an even stronger suspicion that he’d been waiting for you, hovering past the entrance of the cafe with his big university hoodie on.

“Barely,”  you manage around a laugh, straightening the backpack slung over your shoulders, packed to the brim with goodies you got to bring home at the end of the night and two of your textbooks.

“Should watch where you’re going.”  

This is the most conversation you’ve had - ever.  But it’s fun, easy, organic and natural.  You wonder why that is. 

“You should watch where you’re standing, actually.”

He’s so much bigger than you, imposingly tall (especially being part of the Leporidae family) and wide in the chest.  Not bulky by any means, but big.  Strong.  Threaded with a strength you don’t normally see in hybrids of his kind.  It probably has to do with how often you see him covered in sweat and panting, basketball hooked under his arm, soccer cleats tied to his bag.

When he speaks again, it’s full of mirth, squeezing his round eyes near shut.  “Got a problem with me standing here?”  

You nod, solemn as ever (which is really never, but that’s besides the point).  “It’s dangerous to block entryways, didn’t you know?”  You’re gesturing to the awning, the dark interior just past the window of the shop.  “You’re loitering, Jungkook.”

“So you do know my name.”  You can tell he’s not surprised - that he’s hamming it up for dramatics, softly pink lips rounded in a little ‘O’.  He’s cute like this, you think.  Playful in a way you’ve never seen before.  

“I do?” 

There’s that cheek thing again.  It’s even more attractive up close, the shape of his jaw thrown into prominent relief when he sucks in a breath.  

“You just said it.”

You nod, thoughtful, finger tapping upon your chin.  “I guess I did.”

“Say it again,”  he states, expression inscrutable, eyes bright.  They’re so glossy even under the dimmed streetlights, impossibly big and undeniable.  So easy to get lost in - if your attention weren’t caught by something else.

“What is that?”  

You’d noticed it earlier in the day, caught the scent in passing sometime during the early hours.  You’d been unable to place it then, too distracted by freshly ground coffee, a girl’s three too many spritzes of Daisy by Marc Jacobs, and baking banana loaves.

It’s heady, masculine.  A strong musk that sinks into your nose and makes it twitch, ears rotating as if that’ll help pin the smell down.  

“What’s what?”  You hadn’t realised how close you’d become, your face five seconds from planting directly into his chest.  (It’d probably be nice - you know how soft your school’s merchandise is.)  “Are you okay?”  He asks because you’re now, actually, planting your face right against the worn navy cotton.  It’s terribly nice, silk upon your cheek.  

You answer more to his clothes than to him, nosing into the fabric. “You smell different.”

You feel more than hear his laughter, the sound barreling past his teeth seconds later.  The vibrations running along his spine jostle you from your position face first upon him but you don’t mind.  It doesn’t send you far, dark eyes peering up into the face of the bunny hybrid.  True to his kind, his nose is twitching, puffs of laughter expanding his cheeks when he meets your stare. 

“No I don’t.”

“You do.”  Tone firm, a finger lands upon the neatly embroidered N on his hoodie.  The white stitching stands in stark contrast to your baby blue nails.  “You smell… off.”

Whether Jungkook’s offended or not, you can’t tell.  He’s got that same strange expression on his face - the one from this morning when he’d received his coffee.  It’s made up of too many moving parts:  the flutter of his lashes, the coil of his jaw, the minute tick of the corner of his mouth.  You can’t read him for shit, somehow more confused now than in your 300-level art history class.  (You’d taken it as one of your optional electives assuming it’d be an easy A.  You were wrong.)

“Sorry you think so,”  he hums, looking down at you.  You’ve seemed to fully forget the meaning of personal space, edged up beside him as if you’re best friends and not just two ships passing in the night. 

“It’s not bad.”  Really, it isn’t.  It’s strong and sensual, vegetal in a way, calming in another.  But it isn’t unwelcome. 

In fact, you think you might like this scent a little more - less sweet than what normally clings to his skin, natural honeycomb rather than processed sugar.  It zings across your teeth, pieces broken up and scattered behind your molars.  You can practically taste it.  Him.

“Is that so?”  

“Yep.”

You share a look - one that says more than all the words you’ve ever spoken, that threads together all the silly laughter, narrowed stares, (written) flirtations.  It settles between the two of you, filling the spaces with something akin to cotton, light and airy and soft.

The desire to speak lingers, hidden just beyond the cotton candy dusting.  Should you?  Shouldn’t you?  You still have no idea what he’s doing here, a street urchin making his rounds on the campus village.  

He beats you to it.  “Can I walk you back to your dorm?”  

You don’t think you could want anything more.  “Sure.”

Silence falls again but it’s comfortable, a caress rather than a crutch.  The grounds are surprisingly quiet - wayward students on their way to the library or heading home from lectures.  There are no picnic blankets spread across the grass, no gaggles of girls dressed in school colours.  It feels like the first day of fall, change sitting heavy in the air. 

“So—”  You start.

He finishes,  “do you wanna go on a date with me?” 

That’s surprising.  (Or is it?  You’re not really sure.)  You nearly trip over your own two feet in your haste to look at him, entire body swivelling on the spot because apparently you can’t just turn your head like a normal person.  Something something all or nothing. 

“What?”  

“Do.  You.  Want.  To—”  He’s being insufferable for the hell of it.  You can see it in his eyes, glossy things shining down at you like he’s got the entire fucking nightsky hung in them.  

“Not if you keep that up,”  you retort, though you both know you’re lying.  You’ve been waiting - wishing, wanting - for this moment since the day you laid eyes on him.  Since Yuri had elbowed you so hard in the ribs you’d thought you’d be bruised for days, since Jae had rambled on and on for his entire shift about the cute new bunny who’d come in that morning.  Since that very first wrongly spelt name on his plastic cup and every visit since.  

“Is that a challenge?”  

“You won’t get it in.”  

He scoffs, loud and drawn out, cheek rounding with disbelief at your disbelief.  How can you possibly doubt him - school basketball star and all-around athletic freak of nature? 

“What do I get if I do?”  The ball rests in his palm, poised to be shot through the hoop, sunk without making contact with the rim.  He’s confident - he’s done it a million times.  

“A pat on the back?”  As much as you tease him - loop mockery around nearly every syllable you speak, you’re endlessly supportive, already carrying the fruits of his labour under your arms.  A Pikachu shoved haphazardly into the purse slung across your body, a Snorlax tucked under your arm at an awkward angle that crushes his poor head, a Sylveon tucked into the side pocket of his joggers.  (The arcade was really into Pokemon, apparently.)  “Me saying thank you?”

“Not good enough.”  He leans in close - those big galaxy eyes practically swallowing you whole - and taps a single finger upon your nose.  It makes your nostrils flare, an itch blooming under his touch.  “Gotta sweeten the deal.”

You must look hilarious because Jungkook’s biting back a smile, smirking down at you.  Then, all at once, without breaking eye contact, he’s extending his arm, flicking his wrist, and— swish!  

In goes the ball, leaving him with a perfect score.  

“I want you to stay the night.”

You think he’s joking.  He must be joking.  This is your third date.  

But he’s staring at you like he’s completely serious, gaze expectant, lips pursed around something that reads like a smile but has your heart doing a strange little one-two step in your chest.  It soars for a moment, high above the clouds like the string orchestra of a choral work - Beethoven’s Ninth in D minor. 

“Are you propositioning me, Jeon Jungkook?”  It’s the same reaction he always has when you say his name: a twitch of his ear, the corner of his bottom lip quirking and then resetting, eyes so sparkly it’s almost absurd.

“No.  I’m just telling you what I want.”

“Huh.”  You should say no.  Guys like him - with charm that oozes out of every pore, whose offhanded smiles break more hearts than you ever have - are almost always bad news.  Too sweet, too funny, simply too much for your feeble heart to take.  

“Is that a yes?”  He’s got you in his clutches - a viper rather than a hare, with a smile so dangerous you’re paralysed by just the sight of it.  (Who needs venom?)

Your words catch in your throat, stick to one another like the deformed gummies at the bottom of the movie theatre bag.  What comes out isn’t what you expect.  “Okay.”

Damn you.  Damn him.  Damn how good he smells and the big dumb grin that spreads over his lips, sunshine in human form, undeniable and warm and cute enough to start a war over.  (That’s probably what’s happening - a vicious battle between your head and your heart.)  

Damn his stupid thumping foot that you can make out over the sound of the video games, the boisterous din.  It’s so cute you can’t help yourself from smiling, mouth pulling and pursing around the delight that begs to be freed.  

“Cool,”  he says, and you almost think that’s not very cool.  He’s so nonchalant, cavalier about it as if it means nothing.  You’d be bothered if you felt like you didn’t know him so well - hadn’t learnt his idiosyncrasies over the last two months.  

How he looks when he laughs really hard, his slightly too-big front teeth taking up all the real estate in his mouth.  How he sounds when he’s tired (groggy, with a lisp that rarely sees the light of day otherwise) or when he’s told he’s wrong (pouty, with his bottom lip jutted out so cutely you want to scream).  How he runs every morning, hits the gym every night, and eats double your protein because fitness, bro!  How his cheat meal of choice is soy garlic fried chicken from the place off-campus and he hates tangy, tart desserts (your lemonade lip gloss not included, he insists).  How he can’t sleep if he’s too hot - which he often is - and he spends way too long combing through his ears with a specialty brush he doesn’t let anyone touch.  How he’s secretly raindrops and gummy bears and hand holding in the car, so much more than his high school superlative of most likely to grace the cover of GQ.

You wonder, because you know those things, does that make you special?  Does it make you immune to the heartbreak that you swear you imagine whenever your mood drops (not often, but often enough)?  

You hope so.

“Let’s go shoot guns?”  He’s tearing you from your reverie, planting an open-mouthed kiss to your temple.  It’s sloppy and not very refined, much less suave than what you’d expect from your school’s soccer captain (and basketball small forward and swim team stand-in).  You suppose that’s why you like him so much - because he’s always surprising you, keeping you on your toes. 

“Let’s.”  You agree, letting your date drag you toward the Time Crisis machine.  It’s blissfully unoccupied, allowing the two of you to slide into place.  He takes the blue gun, you the red.  

He squeezes your hip when you take up position, one eye squeezed shut as you look down the barrel of the plastic weapon.  “Better not let me die.”

“Better not get shot,”  you return.  

He doesn’t listen - failing halfway through the helicopter scene, his shot missing and resulting in some sad miserable death in the form of Continue? blinking across the screen.  Neither of you mind that much though.  He occupies himself on his phone, free hand tucked into the back pocket of your jeans.  You play better when he’s not shouting terrible call-outs, nearly crashing into you because he gets so into it.

(How he’s never got a concussion on the basketball/soccer/etc. field before, you’re not sure.)

By the time you’re done - a good five minutes later, you think - Jungkook’s growing restless, tugging at your belt loops enough that you stumble with every shot, nearly knocking yourself out when you have to steady yourself on the centre console.  

“Kook!”  Your glare is barely that, too affectionate to dissuade him from his childish antics.  

He pulls you forward, traps you between his thick thighs, tattooed hands settling comfortably on your hips.  “Let’s go home.”

“Someone’s in a hurry.”

Of course, he doesn’t deny that.

It’s not the first time you’ve been over.  Not even your second or third.  You’ve met up with him before his games, thrown his jersey overtop and helped him wrap his fingers before hitting the court.  You’d even had to grab his cleats for him once, running across campus as he did drills in his socks as punishment.

This time feels different.  You know why but it doesn’t make it an easier pill to swallow.  It lodges somewhere in your throat, makes it hard to breathe when you kick off your shoes and tuck them neatly beside Jungkook’s.  

“Are you hungry?”  He’s already in the small kitchen, glancing over his shoulder at you as you linger in the adjoining hallway, bag halfway over your head.  

“I’m good.”  You are, really.  You’d eaten one donut too many at the arcade, indulged in a little too much disgusting nacho cheese goodness.  You don’t really understand how your date’s still hungry, a cucumber crunching between his teeth when he turns back to you. 

Standing there, vegetable devoured in quick, decisive bites, he looks every inch the French lop bunny he is.

You reach him in the same instant he finishes his midnight snack.  Arms fold around you like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing, head dropping to rest comfortably upon yours.  Like this, his ears tickle your cheek - velveteen fur lost to the silk of your hair.  “Are you tired?”  

Another no comes - spoken into the fuzzy fabric of his sweater - and he hums above you, whole frame rattling with the noise.  

“No bed then?”  

At least he’s transparent, you think.

“One track mind much?”  You’re only teasing.  A part of you looks forward to… whatever it is that sits over the horizon, lost past the creaky bedroom door and somewhere beneath his surprisingly soft sheets.  (You’d asked about them once - he’d told you his mother liked to send him housewares to remind him of home.  He was a real mama’s boy that way.)

The monster only laughs, snuggles into your hair like it’s home.  “Can you blame me?”  

You can’t do much of anything when he’s like this - so utterly adorable and enticing and good for your heart that it feels as if you’ve taken a straight dose of morphine.

“Let’s go to bed, Wookie.”  Another nickname, recently coined after you’d spent an evening watching Star Wars for the first time.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You whack him on the way to his bedroom, smack a hand over the arm curled around your shoulders.  He pretends like it hurts, howls in a way he he thinks resembles a wounded animal but really just sounds stupid.  “Not a ma’am.”

“Sir?”  He asks, just to make you laugh. 

“If you don’t shut up—”  

He pushes you through the door of his bedroom while giggling to himself, sound puffing out of his cheeks.  “Don’t be mad, kitten.”  The two of you drop to the bed, a tangle of limbs and silken fur and squeaking laughter.  “You’re so purr-ty when you’re annoyed.”

He’s doing it again.  Dropping those stupid cat puns that make your nose wrinkle, ink-tipped ears folding back against your head.   

“I think I’m hiss-terical, don’t you?”  

Face adamantly buried into his sheets, you don’t give him the time of day.  You don’t even care that your mascara is probably rubbing off against the charcoal fabric, lipstick tint doing potentially irreversible damage.  He knows how unfunny you find these jokes, how you’ve heard them your whole life and roll your eyes so hard your optic nerve might sever every time you face another.  

What’s the point of sharing your pet peeves with him when all he does is lean into them?  Use them against you like it’s the cool thing to do.  Make you wonder what you’d seen in him when he was just another customer, another boy in Seoul National indigo and bedhead so dishevelled it begged to be managed.  

(You’re not sure why you’re so irritated suddenly, caught in the clutches of a moodswing as you curl into your side and ignore his bad jokes.)

Stupid Jeon Jungkook.  Annoying, silly, too-cool-for-his-own-good Jeon Jungkook.  

Jeon Jungkook who makes you second guess your choices, leaves you breathless and confused with just one dumb look.  Who has convinced you into his bed and teases you mercilessly, snickering to himself as his foot bounces against the floorboards because he finds himself that funny.

“Baby?”  The pet name comes, presses itself past your curtain of hair and invades your thoughts.  

You say nothing, adamantly faced away.

He doesn’t like that, sneaking his hands around you and cradling you into his chest as if that’ll lighten the mood.  (It does, a little bit, but you don’t tell him that.)  “Don’t ignore me,”  he mumbles, warmth breath tickling your ears, fingers dancing over the rungs of your ribs as if they’re ivory and not bone, playing a tune only he can hear.

“Stop with the shitty jokes,”  you retort.  You’re being difficult - can feel the vinegar turning your blood even as he tries to will it all away.

You feel the intake, the rise and fall of his broad chest.  You can only imagine how hard he’s biting his tongue, careful to keep his next errant pun at bay.  People don’t tell him no - only you.  Maybe that’s why you do it, to remind him you’re not just like everyone else.  

“Sorry.”  

You don’t tell him to show you how sorry— but he does anyway.

You’re astounded by him, utterly entranced by the way he moves.  How power runs the length of his frame, manoeuvres each of his limbs and turns your own to jelly.  

He’s got you face down, ass up, hands cradling your hips like they’re his home and he can’t bear to let go.  Every upward stroke feels like heaven - feels like a million lifetimes of pleasure you can barely wrap your thoughts around.  He’s impossibly big, thick and long.  The first thought you’d had when he’d stripped his black Calvin Kleins was pretty.  

You realise now there’s nothing pretty about him.  He’s filthy - the devil come to collect as he fucks you across his bed, nearly loses you to the pillows at the head with each snap of his hips.  (What they said about rabbits was true, you think.)

“B-Bunny,”  you sob, scratch over cotton that’s worn soft and smells exactly like your favourite sweater of his.  The linens are defenseless, tangled up and wrinkled with each flex of your fingers, bunched up within your palms every time he buries himself like he’s looking for the answer to life, thinks he might find it within the fluttering walls of your pussy.

“Not my name.”  When he sounds like this, he’s more predator than prey, a thousand volts of electricity shooting up your spine.  He’s demanding and unrelenting.  It makes your head spin.

“Wook—”  

“Not.”  Bunny teeth are just as painful as a feline’s, doing their job as they dig into the flushed skin over your back, marking his territory with two prominent indents right between your neck and shoulder.  “A.”  He ruts into you as if he’s got something to prove, snaps his hips to a beat you can’t keep up with.  “Wookie.”  Grips you so tight you might snap, red blooming beneath his hands.

You sob under him, drool against the pillows because you can’t seem to keep your mouth shut.  (You feel like Jungkook post-win, spewing nonsense as he prattles on about game winning plays with his teammates.)

“K-Kookie.”  It’s what he wants to hear - hits him right in the chest, a bull’s eye to the thing that beats wildly and in tandem with your own.  

His rhythm stutters.  The bed is shaking and not because he’s practically breaking the weak wooden frame.  No, his foot’s thumping, bouncing across the sheets even as he tries to regulate the roll of his hips, return it to the assured, teeth-numbingly good tempo it’d been at.  

It doesn’t work.  You love it anyway.  Like it more, because it means he’s just as affected by you as you are him. Your heart sings, leaps out of your chest on hummingbird wings, and dances around your head.  You’re a goddamn cartoon - Pepé Le Pew in ragdoll form - animated pink shapes circling like a crown.

You don’t care.  You can’t.  Not when he plasters himself to your back and asks you to say it again, begs you to tell him how good he is, tells you how he wants to make you his.  

Who cares if it’s three dates in, if your meeting was cliched and silly and he’s the campus heartthrob?  

You don’t - because he’s yours and when he flips you onto your back and you curl your fingers into his hair, it’s your name he stutters out.  It’s you who has him coming apart beneath your hands, the feel of his ears like velvet, the little whines he huffs growing louder each time you tug at the base.  It’s you who knows what he sounds like as he falls to pieces, throws himself against you as if gravity demands it.  It’s you who holds him to sleep, whose skin acts as a canvas for the doodles he traces as he drifts off.  

It’s you and it’s him and that’s enough.

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ @snackhobi​ @codeinebelle​​

#magicshopnet #ficswithluv #thebtswritersclub #networkbangtan #heartsforbts #goldenclosetnet #bts #bts au #bts imagine #bts fic #bts oneshot #bts fluff #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook oneshot #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook hybrid #work.zip #oneshot.zip #jungkook.doc

[peach-pops]

Amorentia || Kuroo Tetsurō

summary: amorentia has a different scent or aroma for anyone who smells it and the potion, if done correctly, can remind the user of things or more specifically someone they find most attractive, even if the said person is oblivious in their attraction. 

word count: 3.1k

warnings: none 

authors note: i dont know why i always end up writing for kuroo but this dude just speaks to me on an inspirational level ya know? kuroo is a ravenclaw in this but the reader is gn and i didn’t specify what house the reader is in to make it a bit more inclusive. credits to @rhymewithrachel​ for the picture of kuroo which you can find here and pls check out their page for more amazing art! also i def feel like i’ve written the last few lines on like another piece i’ve done but oh well if it isn’t broken, don’t fix it

The library was eerily still for a Thursday morning but you relished in how quiet it was. You had found the perfect sweet spot; not too late where you would forget breakfast but early enough to where you would avoid the morning rush of students who would try to find a quiet spot to study. 

The lowly lit lanterns were useless since the sun was beginning to peak its way through the windowpane behind you and the small semblance of light drew your attention to the dust that was floating lazily in the air.

Even though there were hardly any students around you, you felt as though you were tucked away from the world as you spread your legs out against the leather couch with a Magic Potions: Basic for Beginners textbook settled in your lap. Besides the ever so often sound of a few students rustling their papers, it was truly peaceful. 

“ Good morning beautiful, mind if I join you?” 

Bloody hell. 

You looked up from your textbook to see Kuroo standing over by your legs that were neatly crossed over each other. You would be lying if you said you weren’t slightly taken aback by seeing him so early in the morning but even if he did manage to wake up on time for class, his hair was still a disheveled mess from his horrid bedhead. 

“ You’re up early,” You replied normally as you turned your attention back to your book,” by the way, your tie is crooked, might want to fix that, yeah?” 

You and Kuroo were both in the same year but you two didn’t officially get acquainted until your fourth year when he had “accidentally” spilled butterbeer all over you and then attempted to wipe it off with his bare hand. 

“ Shit, I-I am so sorry! Let me just-”

“ Can you stop feeling me up and get me a napkin instead, you creep?” 

“ A creep? I’m nothing short of a gentleman- speaking of which, are you dating anyone by chance?” 

“ Are you joking? As if I would be under the accompaniment of a clumsy Ravenclaw like yourself.” 

Your vow was fully ignored and by some weird alignment of the planets, you two had been inseparable since. Of course, Kuroo still spent his time over the past two years trying to woe you in some way and while you used to find yourself flustered over his charm, you managed to get used to the constant flirting between the two of you. 

Who were you kidding, the flirting was mostly one-sided unless you weren’t exhausted trying to think of witty comebacks to try and get him stumbling over his words like the first time you two met. 

However, you weren’t blind. You were bold enough to admit to yourself that over the years, Kuroo got progressively wittier, taller, and yes, possibly more attractive. You would never admit it out loud but there was a slight possibility you were starting to see him in a different light.

Nonetheless, you figured feelings like those would just come and go, and surely you didn’t actually have feelings for him. 

Kuroo looked down at his tie and shrugged nonchalantly before fixing it,” I was tossing and turning all night, poor Akaashi had to sleep in the common room because I was keeping him up too. Quidditch tryouts are this afternoon and I’m hoping we can get a strong team together so we can keep up our legacy.”

“ First-year as captain and you’re already nervous,” You clicked your tongue against your teeth as you took another bite of your raspberry scone, utilizing the silence between the two of you as you finished chewing,” hopefully Ravenclaw will get some wins this year. You know, for your own sake and my sanity.” 

“ Okay ouch, first of all, you know you’re not supposed to eat in the library it’s forbidden,” Kuroo crossed his arms playfully over his chest as you only hummed in response,” and second of all, maybe if I had someone special cheering me on, I would do immensely better.”  

You knew he was only being smug since you always showed up to his games but nothing was more entertaining than watching Kuroo practically gush over Quidditch only for you to act somewhat disinterested. 

“ Aw, do you want me to show up with some blue and bronze paint over my face? Maybe even bring a poster with your name on it with little hearts decorated on the border because I have sooo much free time on my hands?” You teased as you played with your hair while pouting back up at him, relishing in the way he shifted from side to side,” honestly Kuroo, you know I have better things to do than to watch you fly around like a lunatic.” 

Kuroo smirked to himself but said nothing to retaliate as he offered his hands to help you out of your seat once he saw the time,” Come on, you know Slughorn will throw another fit if we’re late again and by the looks of it, you can’t afford falling behind.” 

For a moment, you thought that maybe you had gone too far. His response was almost disappointing in contrast to how he would usually retort with something wittier of the sort but it was out of your control now. 

You closed your textbook and grabbed Kuroo’s hands so he could help you off the leather couch but once he got you up to your feet, his strong grip on your hands didn’t release. 

Your chests were almost touching and the distance between you two was so small, you could distinctively smell his signature vanilla aftershave that he put on every morning. You looked down at your hands that were fitted perfectly against his as Kuroo leaned down close to your ear, his breath tickling your neck.

“ Don’t act so coy, Y/N. I know you would love nothing more than to wear my jersey so that everyone else could know you like me.”

You could feel the heat rise from your chest to your ears as you slipped your hands out from his to hold your textbook to your chest, as if it would cool you down. You fiddled with the spine of the textbook as a distraction as Kuroo smiled back innocently at you to give you time to compose yourself. 

“ D-Don’t say things like that, you’re my friend and that’s all,” You stammered as you slapped his shoulder to make the tension less thick,” and wipe that grin off your face, you look like an idiot!” 

Kuroo laughed, easing whatever tension was left in the air as he bumped your shoulder with his, “ Fine, fine, I’ll stop but only because you’re my special friend.”

“ You’re the worst.” 

“ And you love it.”

“ Are you sure we’re doing this right?” You asked Kuroo as he sprinkled in the powdered moonstone while you stirred the concoction slowly. 

You surveyed the room as you watched your fellow classmates fail miserably at the assignment at hand, some being greeted with thick clouds of smoke while others potions just combusted into flames. 

You flinched at the sound of shrieking and looked up to see Sugawara and Daichi backing away from their cauldron as a mass of black tar started to slither out towards them. Slughorn had warned everyone that this potion was tricky to master but you didn’t think it would be this difficult and as time passed, the more anxious you grew. 

Kuroo, as unbothered as ever, looked down at the instructions for a moment before turning his attention back at the cauldron,” Yep, triple checked it and everything. You sure are nervous today.”

“ I’m always nervous during this class, you know I’m awful at potions. Plus look what happened to Oikawa, he’s in the hospital wing because of this lab.” 

“ He’ll be fine, the flames weren’t too high, he probably just lost an eyebrow,” Kuroo teased, trying to keep your mind at bay,” are you sure you’re not nervous because we’re concocting Amorentia?” 

You continued to stir the mixture carefully as you only scoffed,” Why would I be nervous of a silly little love potion?” 

“ First off, Amorentia is one of the most powerful love potions in existence so show some respect,” Kuroo said as you only rolled your eyes back at him,” And second of all, maybe you’re nervous because this will finally prove that you have feelings for me.” 

“ Knock it off before I send you to the hospital wing nerd,” You replied hastily as Kuroo put his hands up in defense,” Are you sure you’re not the nervous one? You’ve been acting weird since class has started...like more mouthy than usual.” 

If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve gone the whole lesson completely oblivious to Kuroo’s nervous tics, but after years of being friends, you knew better than to pass them off as normal tendencies. 

Kuroo rubbed the corner of the textbook page between his fingers as his eyes read the directions over again to try and ground himself in his thoughts. He had re-read the same step of the last instruction for the past couple of minutes to look occupied but his facade was starting to fall apart. 

“ If you paid more attention to the assignment instead of me, maybe you would pass the class, huh?” Kuroo smirked to try and ease your mind but the action only made you feel more annoyed. 

“ Enough with this back and forth, are we almost done? You’ve been reading the last step for a while now, is it that hard or are you just stupid today?” You nudged Kuroo out of the way and bent your body over the table to read the last step, wanting nothing more than to get this class over with. 

Kuroo watched as you began to stir the concoction slowly, his eyes trained on the top of the cauldron to watch for any sign of steam. 

“ What color are the spirals supposed to be?” You asked as a dark, pink-colored steam started to slowly rise from the mixture,” did he say pink was right or purple? Maybe red I don’t even remember.” 

Kuroo carefully leaned closer beside you to get a better look at the steam,”Looks right to me. You smell anything?” 

“ The only thing I can smell is that god awful aftershave of yours so back up.” 

You leaned your forearms on the table and took in a deep breath of the potion. Almost instantly, you felt a comforting warmth spread throughout your body that started in your chest and moved all the way down to your head and toes. You felt your body completely relax and it felt almost similar to the feeling of submerging yourself into a hot bath after a long day. 

It would make absolutely no sense to describe the scents as something so oddly familiar and distinct while not being obvious at all yet that was where your headspace was as you tried to identify the scents. 

Almost immediately, once you pinpointed one scent, the rest came flooding in one after another,” I smell something like cinder-a burning logfire...and....I know what this is it’s kinda like- oh, broomstick polish!” 

You took into another deep breath to try and identify the last scent but you couldn’t put a name to the scent which only made you more frustrated. 

“ Kuroo, can you help me? I can’t figure out the last scent,” You sighed as Kuroo closed his eyes to take a turn, even though he could already pinpoint a few scents from his spot,” do you smell the logfire too?” 

Kuroo only smiled to himself as he felt the warmth spread across his body before shaking his head,” That’s not how it works. Our scents would be different for example, I smell…freshly clean linen, old parchment paper, and… butterbeer froth.”

Once the words left Kuroo’s mouth, he opened his eyes and turned to you to read your reaction. He looked for something, anything behind those eyes of yours to watch it all click in your head but as usual, you were completely oblivious to the huge hint he had given you. 

“ Lucky you, I wish I could smell what you can- this is harder than I thought,” You pouted as you noticed some of your other classmates were getting distracted by you and Kuroo’s Amortentia,” maybe we did this wrong.”

“ We did it right, don’t worry,” Kuroo cleared his throat as he gave you a nudge with his shoulder which only made you nudge him back even harder,” maybe you should try again, think really hard. Try to see where you recognize the scent instead of what it is.” 

You closed your eyes and just like before, the same warm sensation flooded your body but this time, you could feel yourself leaning closer and closer to the cauldron, almost as if the potion was pulling you in deeper. 

“ Burning logfire, broomstick polish and…” You took in another deep breath but you were only meet with more frustration,” for the last time, can you give me some space, Kuroo? I swear all I can smell is your-.” 

You opened your eyes and practically pulled yourself away from the table once an unsettling realization had started to develop quickly in your mind. You knew exactly what the scent was but there was that lingering sensation in your mind that still tried to convince itself that for once, maybe you were wrong. 

Kuroo let out a breathy laugh as the back of your neck and ears began to grow hot,” Something the matter-”

Without thinking, you grabbed Kuroo’s collar and pulled him down to your eye level. Kuroo’s face started to grow red as you brushed your nose against the side of his neck to get a better smell. You had to be going crazy, there was no way- it all had to be a trick. 

“ Are you sure we did this right? You’re absolutely positive?” You asked softly as you let go of his collar. 

Kuroo smoothed out his collar and nodded as he looked back at the cauldron,”I’m absolutely positive- why are you freaking out?” 

Because I smell your stupid vanilla aftershave. 

“ I’m not freaking out,” You lied through your teeth as you turned your attention to Slughorn as he dismissed the class for the day,” You know what, I’m actually not feeling well- Can you clean up for me? I’m feeling a little lightheaded.”

“Y/N-”

“ I’ll see you around,” You gathered your things quickly but as you reached for your potions book, Kuroo snatched it off the table and held it behind his back,”enough Kuroo, give it back.” 

“ Clean linen, parchment, and butterbeer froth,” Kuroo listed as you tried to grab your book from behind his back but Kuroo was quick to hold it above his head,”did you hear me?” 

You looked up at how high he was holding your textbook and as embarrassing as it was, you decided to hold on to the little dignity you had left and not jump up and down for it. 

“ Yes I heard you but I don’t care.” 

“ You do care and you’re not listening to me. I smelled clean linen, parchment paper, and butterbeer froth so now it’s your turn, what did you smell?” Kuroo asked, this time a bit louder. It was obvious in the way he was enunciating his words that he was trying to lead you down a certain conversation but you were slow to pick up on it. 

You didn’t want to tell him, all you wanted to do was go back to bed and pretend as though this day had never happened. The idea that all this time you actually had real feelings for Kuroo only made you feel flustered. 

It wasn’t that you were ashamed of liking someone like him but for years, you had convinced him and seemingly everyone else that you would never have feelings for Kuroo. In reality, you couldn’t have been more wrong. 

“ Do we have to do this right now?” You asked softly as you nodded over to Slughorn who was dusting the corners of his desk but it was obvious he was eavesdropping on the conversation. 

Without missing a beat, Kuroo nodded and lowered your textbook back down to hand it to you.

“ You’re right, we should discuss this someplace quiet and private, how does dinner sound?”

You shook your head at the boy as you tried to grab your textbook from him but you couldn’t pry it off his strong grip,“ Quit flirting with me, now isn’t the time.” 

Kuroo couldn’t take it anymore; the years of endlessly flirting and being ignored was taking a toll on his pride and he couldn’t stand it. He knew you were prideful but this was on a whole different level.

“ Now is the perfect time since now I know you like me after all.”

“ How- I do not-”

“ You’re a terrible liar Y/N, the aftershave was a dead giveaway and I don’t know whether or not I’m more hurt by the fact that you’re too embarrassed to admit you like me or that you think my aftershave is god awful,” Kuroo said as he loosened his grip on the book so you could take it from his hands,” aren’t you tired of pretending you don’t have feelings for me?” 

You carefully took back your textbook as if it was a fragile vase and held it close to your chest as if you were shielding your heart. 

“ For the record, I don’t think it’s god awful, I just think you put on way too much,” You mumbled as Kuroo stood up straighter,” and I’m not tired of pretending, maybe I don’t like you or maybe I do have feelings for you.”

“ But maybe you like me more than you dislike me, am I right?”

You opened your mouth but quickly closed it after thinking his words over for a moment,“Emphasis on maybe...but don’t let it get to your head. You get one date so don’t ruin it.” 

Even though it wasn’t the confession Kuroo wanted, it was the only confirmation he needed to hear from you to let him know that the feelings were mutual. 

Kuroo couldn’t help but wear a huge goofy smile on his face as he collected his things and followed your lead as you both started to walk out the classroom. You and Kuroo politely nodded and said goodbye to Slughorn, who was pretending to read the textbooks along the shelves. 

Once you two left the classroom, Kuroo’s hand slide down beside yours and started to play with your fingers carefully. Your hand recoiled from the feeling but once you made sure the hallway was clear of any onlookers, you let your hand slide back down and let his fingers intertwine with yours. 

“ You know, I knew you really liked me, I called it since day one-” 

“ Okay, that’s enough Kuroo.” 

“ You said and I quote,’As if I would be under the accompaniment of a clumsy Ravenclaw like yourself’ and look at you now, holding hands with one!”

You shook your head at him and wondered to yourself if this is how things would be now yet you still couldn’t bring yourself to hide the small smile on your face,”You’re the worst.” 

Kuroo squeezed your hand in his and shared the same lovey-dovey grin on his face,” and you love it.” 

taglist: @goopyartiste​, @sugas-sweetheart​, @kirislut​, @estridries​, @hannahalanib1​, @art0saurus​, @shoutamajiki​, @yee-harr​, @animatedarchives​

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu hogwarts au #haikyuu hogwarts #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo scenario #nekoma x reader #nekoma hogwarts #kuroo headcanon #kuroo imagine #kuroo tetsuro headcanon #kuroo tetsuro scenario #tetsuro kuroo x reader #tetsuro kuroo scenario #tetsuro kuroo headcanon

[nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice]

Ok modern zuko would be an expert at breakdancing and sokka would be the guy who just bi-panicks whenever he does

(whoops, my hand slipped and I accidentally wrote a modern au headcanon turned zukka karate au one-shot) 

Okay but consider this instead: Zuko doesn’t know how to dance for shit and has horrible rhythm, but he is a GOD at martial arts. He’s been doing some type of style since he was a kid and is a full black belt by the time he hits high school. Martial arts was always something he excelled at, but it was also something that made him feel more secure. It was something he could work on to help him protect himself from his home life, even if it wasn’t enough most times. He specifically excels in weapons forms (I’m thinking twin sais) and you DO NOT want to spar with him. Because he may be skinny and shorter, but he’s quick and can hit hard at just the right spots. 

When he was younger he was obsessed mainly because he felt that belt rankings and trophies from competitions were a way to prove himself to his dad, but when he moved in with Iroh (who encouraged him to keep it up and was so proud of how talented and passionate he was about it), he basically used it in place of talking about his feelings. He didn’t talk about his home life or the shit Ozai did, instead, he put all his energy into his black belt levels, learning new weapons forms, and eventually into teaching new students as a junior instructor. 

At school, he’s awkward and asocial and just doesn’t have the energy for people. Zuko has little patience for asshole classmates who ask intrusive questions about his scar or spread rumors about where he got it. He eats lunch in his English classroom and would be a complete shut-in if Iroh didn’t get him to work part-time at the Jasmine Dragon. But in the dojo, he’s focused and is able to direct his energy into improving his forms and teaching younger teens. 

One of his newer students transferred from a different dojo after moving from a different state. He’s actually a freshman at Zuko’s high school but it’s not as if Zuko really interacted that much with him. This kid, Aang, is as talented and dedicated as he is, but has a long way to go to learn all the new katas. Zuko’s been dubbed the ‘scary’ trainer at the dojo. He’s the serious one who will yell if someone is goofing off and everyone’s seen that he has no problem using full force in a demonstration (little kids love him and he’s super nice to them, but he teaches the 12-15 age range). Plus there’s that scar, which doesn’t make him the most initially welcoming person. But this new kid Aang just latches onto Zuko immediately. He says hi to Zuko in the halls at school and works on his katas outside of regular practice times. At first Zuko thinks this sickeningly positive kid is annoying as crap, but warms up to him. He likes that Aang cares about martial arts and isn’t nice as a show, he’s just genuinely nice. 

And maybe he sees Aang hanging around school with a sophomore girl and her brother who just might be in Zuko’s calc class and English class. 

And maybe Zuko thinks this guy is insanely attractive and somehow incredibly funny even though most of his humor consists of the worst puns imaginable. 

But obviously, Zuko hasn’t attempted to ever actually talk to this guy. The most that he could classify as ‘talking’ to the cute, funny guy on the robotics club is the one day in English class when he had to respond to someone’s dumbass comment about Macbeth with what ended up being a ten minute spoken essay about obvious motifs and symbolism. To which Mr. Puns and Ponytail was very obviously paying great attention to and even gave Zuko a smile and thumbs up for. 

Zuko knows it’s pointless to engage. After all, he’s a senior and he doesn’t have any friends anyway. There’s no point in making any this year. Crushing on this guy from the comfortable position of the other side of the room is totally good enough for him. Totally. This is fine. He’s fine.  

Besides, he’s got competitions and if he doesn’t secure the regional championships this year he’s never going to get the chance after he goes to college. And he’s got his kids to train. Aang in particular is gearing up for his first debut into this area’s tournament. 

The tournament’s in October and usually, Zuko focuses on his own matches and performances, but Aang really wanted him to watch his set. So on this day, he stands on the sides of Aang’s zone instead of obsessively going through his katas in a corner.He’s not going to be able to watch the whole set because it overlaps with his own weapons portion, but he stands on the side and gives Aang a reassuring look that, ‘don’t worry, you’ll do great, you’re a talented kid,’ when his student looks over to him nervously. 

And wouldn’t you know it? Aang brought some friends to come watch. And one of them is Mr. Zuko’s Big Gay Crush. 

“Oh, hey Zuko,” are the words that come out of this guy's mouth that give Zuko a near-stroke. And damn if this guy’s eyes aren’t blue and pretty and he usually wears his hair in a ponytail at school, but now he’s wearing it down and Zuko wishes he could take screenshots with his brain because holy moly. 

“Hey.” Is the best that Zuko can get out of his dumb mouth. “You’re Sokka.” 

“Aang invited us to come watch,” Sokka nudges his head to indicate the ‘us’ includes his younger sister, who Zuko doesn’t know the name of. “How do you guys not get heatstroke during these things? It’s like a million degrees in here.” 

“Oh the gi’s pretty cold, I mean, it’s got air and stuff.” 

Zuko decided right there that he would be completely fine with being struck by lightning. Of course, that’s what his stupid brain would come up with. Of course, that’d be the thing he’d say in front of one of the smartest guys in his class. 

They watch Aang perform his set for the judges. Zuko recognizes that Aang took his advice when he said that he wasn’t putting enough force into his hits. He’s never seen Aang be as, well, aggressive isn’t the right word, but he’s definitely putting more power into his form. Zuko wouldn’t admit it, though, but only part of his attention was for Aang at the moment. The other part was for Sokka, who was smiling bright and pumping his fists when Aang completed a row of kicks. 

The small part of Zuko’s brain that wasn’t being taken up by watching Aang or trying to act normal around his crush noticed the clock on the wall indicating that the weapons portion would be starting in five minutes.  

“I’ve got to go do a thing so I’ll just, um, go do that now.” 

“Are you competing too?” Sokka asked. 

To this question Zuko just holds up his sais and raises his eyebrow as if to say ‘it’s a tournament, what do you think?’ Because yeah, he knows Sokka’s super smart, he’s seen him churn out calc answers at the speed of light and noticed his name on the robotics club awards update on the school’s website, but he’d also seen Sokka eat 5 packs of fundip at once on a dare and unironically wear a ‘women want me, fish fear me’ t-shirt for most of junior year. Somehow he had managed to fall for the smartest dumbass on earth. 

“Oh yeah, right.” Sokka eyes the sais and then looks right at Zuko’s face, “Aang says you’re really good.” 

Zuko decides that thinking about Aang talking to Sokka about him was something he didn’t need distracting him during his set. That was something he could anxious about later. 

“Hopefully good enough for those five assholes,” Zuko replies, gesturing to the panel of judges in the weapons section of the gymnasium. To his shock, Sokka laughs. It’s a nice laugh, too. And Zuko really hoped he could blame the blush that was one-hundred-percent creeping up his face on the lack of AC. 

“You know, you’re pretty funny man,” Sokka tells him. Zuko has no clue how to take that compliment, but he really does need to go. 

“Right,” he grins nervously and shifts his left foot around to bounce away, “well I have to go do my thing.” 

“Good luck!” 

That’s where Zuko thinks the beginning and end of his interaction with Sokka would be. 

The weapons portion thankfully goes by age. And since Zuko’s one of the youngest competitions, he gets to go first for his sai katas. This is what literal years of training have prepared him for. At regionals last year, the second advanced kata got him placed high enough to qualify for states. This is what he’s good at. He tells himself that a thousand times before starting his set. 

There’s not a thought in his head as Zuko goes through the form. The sais glide through his fingertips with every jab, block, and hook. The imaginary opponent doesn’t stand a chance. He’s cool and competent and graceful. It’s therapeutic in a sense. There’s enough adrenaline to make Zuko feel like he’s worth something, but more importantly, he knows he’s nailing this. Whatever the judges say about it, he knows that he’s perfected this form after practicing it at least a thousand times over three years. 

The judges agree with him. He’s the first competitor of the weapons portion but there isn’t really a doubt in their minds about who’s going to place. 

Zuko zones back in to the gym after bowing to the panel. He walks off, feeling lighter and letting a satisfactory smile take over his face. 

He expects the hug from Uncle and the proud smile from Sensei Piandao, but what he doesn’t expect is to see Sokka, eyes wide as globes, staring at him from the other side of the mat. 

Because what Zuko doesn’t know is that the second he turned his wrists in his first form during his hooks, Sokka’s brain went into Full Bi Panic Mode. 

And Zuko thinks the one conversation where he couldn’t talk like a human and wanted to die for most of it would be the only time Sokka would decide to willingly talk to him. Zuko is dead wrong. Sokka, in fact, has decided that this, this is the guy his Disaster Bi Brain has decided to latch onto. Sokka’s brain and all his squishy feelings have apparently decided to attach to this aloof kid with the scar who reserved his voice for eloquent, impassioned speeches about dramas and was apparently an actual god with weapons. Sokka decides that Zuko could roundhouse kick him in the side and he’d thank him. And right now Zuko’s looking at him with a dumbfounded expression, prompting Sokka to remember how to function so he can go over to congratulate Zuko and maybe ask if his dojo provides a free trial. 

So yeah, that one conversation ends up decisively not being the end of anything. 

#sorry #not sorry #zukka #zuko #sokka #atla #avatar the last airbender #fanfic #I'm gonna edit and add to this #and probably updated something on my ao3 in the first time in a literal month #thanks babe for the inspiration #the babes are asking #hot leaf content

[pixiedoodlein]

I’ve been going back and forth agonizing over the school thing. It’s not just school, it’s a whole satellite of other risk assessments and considerations and life choices. The school superintendent emailed me back. He was polite but no he isn’t offering virtual school, not unless it’s ordered by the governor. In theory she could safely go to school, if the school has implemented all possible precautions. Which they haven’t. Precautions as far as I can tell are desks 3 feet apart and masks. (I don’t think the ventilation systems have been overhauled, and staff are not mandated to vax here). So my gut is telling me to not send her. Cases keep going up. We are so close to kids getting vaccinated. It won’t solve everything but it’ll help. We were so careful in the beginning, when kids were not at serious risk. Now they are, so why not go back to being so careful? I should go back to being so careful, ie no in-person school, for the first couple months of this school year, and hopefully the situation will be better in a few months. It also means no more taking baby into stores. I took him into the supermarket today and was a nervous wreck- a lot of masked shoppers but a lot of unmasked shoppers, droves. Making that change, not shopping with him, going back to grocery pickup, is the easiest change. The other changes are harder. If I’m working FT at a new job I want to excel at, I can’t be the parent primarily responsible for schooling. A said he can do it. We just started up his biz and he needs to devote time to that and all the projects are things that can’t be don’t from home, but until the kids are vaccinated (until she is in school and he is daycare) we could scale back on what kinds of projects he does, limit it to small ones he can do on weekends vs more of a FT schedule (ie restore the library of a victorian home versus restore an entire public library). A said if schooling is mostly on him, he’d rather homeschool than virtual (not that the school here is offering virtual, it would be something we pay for). He is not tech savvy and our budding compound is the perfect environment for him to do homeschool with her, a lot of learning can happen in our forest with little guy and the puppy running around with them. He’d do all the subjects except language arts, that one I’m claiming (he is severely dyslexic, she is already a much better speller than he is). So it looks like we are back to homeschool, back to really limiting how often any of us, especially little guy, interacts with the public.

The much, much harder change to make is our relationship with the neighbors. It’s been okay that they had different feelings about covid risk than us because covid wasn’t spreading here, none of their kids were in camp or school, none of the adults worked much outside of the home in risky settings. Now covid is spreading shockingly fast here, their kids are going back to school, and the mom is about to return from maternity leave to in-person work, in a very high-risk setting. The particulars of my assessment of their changing risk status would sound classist, and is, but is also hard fact. A and I are going to have a really honest conversation with the parents and grandparents and explain that we don’t expect them to change their behaviors but we are changing ours, and this is why (the data, what doctors we’ve asked are telling us, our experience of what works to not contract covid from living in other hotspots and not contracting covid). We’re going to tell them that we love them so much and we love how things are right now (last night they came here for bbq on the deck, it was so, so much fun; I snuggled their baby and it almost made me want one; M did tie dye at their house today then all the girls came back here for a sleepover, they run around laughing and playing together all day every day and I love it, we all do, they share clothes and argue like sisters, it is the best, they are the best neighbors ever, they are a godsend and a massive piece of our lives here) but until our kids are vaccinated we need to limit hanging out to outdoors, no sleepovers, outdoors even for the vaccinated adults in the crew, and our child will be wearing a mask outdoors, it’s up to to them whether their kids do too.

March 2020 lockdown life, operating in theatre as if our lives depend on it (bad joke), here we come. Maybe this will be the season I finally master bread.

[shinesurge]

I’ve been holding off on making this post because I wanted to try it out myself and get settled in and make sure everything went okay, but seeing as I’ve gone ahead and updated my site and everything I thought now might be a good time to start talking about this publicly! 

If you’ve known me for more than five minutes you know I fucking hate Webtoon, like, a lot. Every aspect of it disgusts me to the core of my being, and while Webtoon is the ugliest version of them the aspects that I hate also extend to basically any comic aggregate site. I hate that they treat artists like content robots, I hate that they treat comic readers like morons who aren’t capable of engaging with complex stories, I hate that they actively try to strip away all the cool parts of indie comics by cultivating sterile and impersonal environments that discourage artistic experimentation and unique expression.

So! I hope you’ll be interested in what I have to say about this new platform that’s (hopefully) going to be out of alpha this summer. If you think you like reading comics on Webtoon, I really encourage you to check out Dillyhub once it launches. That’s the short version, but I have a LOT to say about this! So I’m putting the rest of this under a cut.

Full disclosure, I’m not getting paid or anything for this. The creative outreach at Dillyhub contacted me a few weeks ago asking if I’d be interested in having Kidd Commander be one of their launch titles when they go live this summer. I was hesitant at first, since I actively distrust anything claiming to be For Creators at this point, but they answered my pushy questions patiently and everything seemed on the up and up so I gave it a shot; I’ve been needing a mobile mirror for KC anyway. Eventually they invited me to the alpha creator discord, where they’ve been working directly with all of us artists to improve the platform, and now to be honest I’m REALLY excited for this thing to get off the ground. Nobody asked me to make this post, but since I’ve spent years whining and bitching about how other services do wrong by their creators, I thought I’d talk about this one that’s doing things right.

So, the biggest advantage this site has for creators over others in my opinion is that it. Treats us like individuals, regardless of follower count lmfao. If you’re a new person just starting out with your new webcomic, here’s what webtoon does for you:

Note: you don’t get a custom banner, you don’t even get to choose the solid color it is. That big circle icon is ALSO the image that shows up in searches, but everywhere else on the site it’s a 100x100px square, so you have to choose whether you want it to look good as a giant circle at the top of your comic’s page OR whether you want to look good in search results. Which, by the way, is the ONLY way for people to find you if you’re not partnered. And that’s it! You have no monetization options, you won’t show up on the genre pages, and when someone DOES stumble across your page it looks super unprofessional. Good Luck! 

Now here’s my Dillyhub page(s):

You don’t get a static banner and one icon, you get a whole carousel banner with as many images as you want front and center as soon as you get to the project page. You get seven (custom!) genre tags, as opposed to Webtoon’s single tag you have to pick from their list, and plenty of room to talk about your work. The episodes are even laid out better, you get a MUCH bigger preview space to work with and they’re nice and big on the bottom half of the page:

you know, like they’re actually presenting ART lmfao.

That’s already an ENORMOUS improvement, but here’s my favorite thing.

o hm that’s a lot of super cushy settings I have for every individual episode, but what’s that, Episode Type?

LIKE.

listen, i know this is probably a bit specialized if you’re not a comic maker yourself, but this is a HUGE DEAL. You can post vertically OR page by page! You can even post pages two at a time for double page spreads, or so they read like a physical comic book! AND their specs are really open, as long as the file meets the size requirement you can make it whatever shape you want. You don’t have to reformat all your shit to post here!! I posted the entire first volume of KC STRAIGHT FROM THE PRINT FILES in like half an hour!!! The episodes can also be any amount of pages, you can post a single page or an entire chapter all in one go!

So that’s just the project page for the comic, let’s see what happens when I click on my username there.

Each author gets their own unique page (which you can tack a vanity url to!) to present themselves however they want! You always have the banner at the top, but beyond that you have a ton of options. Among other incredibly useful tools that really should just be bare fucking minimum at this point, like the ability to preview your page on different devices, you start customizing your blank page with this set of widgets,

and from THERE you can customize them MORE, you can promote your patreon or your kickstarter or whatever! Having this creator space ALSO means that if you run several comics, or if you want to promote your comic AND your illustrations, you can just separate them into individual projects! Each with their own page! This is also really nice as a reader because you can subscribe to a creator but you can also just subscribe to specific projects, if you don’t want to get ALL of their stuff in your inbox. It’s so good y’all hh.

Once again, all of this functionality is just THERE as soon as you make your account. You don’t need to be “partnered” or whatever the fuck, you don’t need to meet a certain follower threshold to unlock the ability to operate normally. You get your own creator space to present yourself how you prefer, you get pages for all your projects, you can even set up monetization options (and change them for individual pages IN a project) right from the start.

ok ok let’s compare this to my webtoon page

oh that’s right webtoon just puts your greyed out name at the bottom of each comic and that’s it because human beings don’t make this stuff, my bad lol anyway

Other fun shit that Dillyhub does that makes me feel like they’re people who have actually consumed or made comics on the internet at some point in their lives:

-When you log into the “studio” space, you’re in your creator account. When you log OUT of the studio space, it’s like you swap to a “reader” account, where you can access your pull list and comment on things with a different name and profile icon. Again, maybe only cool if you’re a creator, but if you ARE then you know exactly why this is incredibly useful lmao

-You can set up “hidden” projects, so if you only want certain things to be accessible by certain people or to not show up in searches that’s an option! You have SO much control here it’s great.

-The comment section has moderation options GODDD. You also have a real comment space, you know, so it actually encourages building a community (and a rapport with your community, if you like), and you also can just turn comments off entirely if you want! I haven’t used it much yet, obviously, but it’s been made very clear in the discord that artists want better control over their comment sections and the devs have it on their priority list.

-Absolutely every step of customization gives you a preview before it’s live, so you can easily see what these images you’re posting in different places are going to look like before you beam them to your followers’ inboxes. This includes individual episodes!

-This was sort of in one of the screenshots but it’s important so I’m saying it here too: the option to mark individual episodes as mature or with content warnings, rather than having to mark an entire comic as Mature Spooky Scary Content because of one or two pages getting a bit hairy.

This site is only in alpha right now, and it’s invite-only until they get to beta (for creators; anyone can make a reader account! but they haven’t set up a way to browse comics without direct links yet so) but honest to god it’s already blowing every other site I’ve used clean out of the water. And the staff has been really kind and responsive to us proposing fixes or changes! I will always defend individual websites as being the best option for an indie comic, but everybody’s gotta start somewhere and we NEED something that isn’t Tumblr or Webtoon to fill this role; this site feels a lot more like a symbiotic relationship than any of the other staples available for new creators right now. If you’re a comic reader and you want to see your favorite comics on Dillyhub I’d suggest keeping an eye on this site and once it’s live start poking them to look into it, and if you’re a creator follow their social media and hop in when they open up for anybody to join. I would LOVE to see this site take off as a viable option for hosting and reading comics.

Thanks for reading all this! I haven’t quite finished setting up yet, but if you want to poke around a project/creator page for yourself mine is here have at it. As things progress I’m sure I’ll have more to say, but since I’m usually so aggressively negative about places like this I just wanted to give some credit where it was due. fucking finally.

#long post #i want this site to obliterate webtoon so fucking bad lmfao