Do U Love Two Time Like I Do (say Yes And I Won’t Jump You After School)

number yaoi. and yuri. it is both

•☽────✧˖°˖ SUMMER MEMORIES ˖°˖✧────☾•

(COMMISSION)

★ Summary: A Compilation of Headcanons Featuring Salesperson ENA X Reader Who Likes To Draw

★ Commissioner: @namosaga

★ Character(s): Salesperson ENA (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

☆ You doodle when you’re bored. You doodle when you’re sad. You doodle when ENA’s talking about a “high-risk divestment strategy involving artificial soap and stolen cafeteria spoons.” And at some point, you started doodling her. It’s not just her whole self—though that too, many times. Sometimes it’s just the curve of her clawed hand reaching for a megaphone. Sometimes it’s her striped suspenders tangled around a heart. When ENA notices, her Salesperson side lights up like a SALE sign. “Ohhhh. What’s this? That triangle is my face! Do you find me marketable? Beautiful? Business-presentable?” You nod. The Meanie stares. “Gross. Now we’re a MUSE? Ew. I’ll be charging you royalties for my likeness.”

☆ She finds the sketchbook one day when you’re away—left on a folding chair by a half-eaten pastry and an unopened bottle of fizzy coffee. She’s not snooping, no, not at all. Salesperson insists she’s “simply browsing local investments!” The first ten pages are filled with swirled lines, nervous clutter, random eyes. But then she sees herself. Over and over. Her bent legs, her hair curling wrong in the wind, her Meanie side squished into a heart-shaped frame. She freezes. Then she flips the pages again. Faster. Slower. Backward. She eventually whispers: “I look like someone’s safe place in here.”

☆ After that, ENA starts posing. Not directly. That would be weird. And vulnerable. So instead, she just happens to linger in dramatic stances longer than necessary. Flinging her arms toward the sky like a puppet cut loose. Curling on a desk with a fake frown. Standing by the megaphone with her head tilted at exactly 37 degrees. “My right angle is better for composition, by the way,” she mutters, fake-casual. “Stop telling them that,” Meanie snaps. “You look like an expired crayon.”

☆ You doodle her in the margins of receipts. On the back of pamphlets. In the corner of forms she begged you to fill out (“Sign here to legally acknowledge the weight of our friendship.”) ENA doesn’t get mad. Not really. She just starts leaving blank forms around on purpose. Sticky notes with “FOR DRAWING PURPOSES” scribbled in all-caps. One day she hands you an envelope. It’s empty except for a note inside that says: “Put more of me inside, please. Thank you for your service to the brand.”

☆ She watches you draw one day. Quietly. Which is rare for her. You’re sitting against a wall by the noise garden, sketchbook on your knees, tongue poking out a little from concentration. ENA crouches beside you and doesn’t say anything for a whole minute. Then five. At the six-minute mark, she finally mumbles: “You only draw the good parts.” Her voice is all Meanie. Soft. Sincere. And she won’t look at you when she says it.

☆ She starts giving you feedback. “Bigger shoulders—make me more powerful! Like a tank top model with clawed ambition!” “YOU MISSED THE HAT. DRAW THE HAT OR SO HELP ME I’LL SUE.” “You made me look too nice in this one. I look like I forgive people.” Despite the commentary, she keeps them. Every doodle you give her—ripped-out pages, napkin sketches, whatever—gets tucked neatly into a growing portfolio. You caught her one night whispering to it like a bedtime story.

☆ You try to draw her when she’s upset. Not meltdown upset—just quiet. Twitchy. Detached. Her mouth stuck in a not-smile. You sketch the tension in her shoulders, the downward tilt of her hat. You don’t show her those pages. But she finds them. Of course she does. “Is this how I look when I’m breaking in half? …Accurate.” She tilts the sketch. “But you drew me like I’m still loved, even then.” She doesn’t tear it up. She folds it gently and puts it in her cap.

☆ One day, she draws you. Sort of. It’s lopsided. Chaotic. The head is too big and the hands are just rectangles. But she gives it to you proudly, declaring: “This is YOU. You’re holding a flower and a sword and a bottle of ink and also a stress ball shaped like my face.” “You look pathetic,” Meanie mutters. “Pathetically important.”

☆ She asks you what each doodle means. You explain: That one was when she made you laugh so hard you choked. That one was when she got you out of the shadow hallway. That one was after she called you “a limited-time offer worth investing in.” ENA stares at you for a long time. Then says, “So I’m…a record? A message? A monument?” You blink. “You’re a muse.” She grins. “I’m also a tax deduction.”

☆ Eventually, she lets you draw her on her. You get a marker. A red one. She offers her arm with theatrical flair. “Brand me. Immortalize my essence. Turn me into a living portfolio!” You doodle a little heart on her clawed hand. Just one. Meanie stares at it, blinking fast. “…Dumb,” she mumbles, voice like cracked glass. Then quietly adds: “…Draw another one.”

another four pile (plus fourx)

fully obsessed with them

Run.

THIS TOOK ME 17 HOURS PLEASSSEEE REBLOG IT 😭

yeah this took. Forever lmao. I really wanted to draw some foliage and it turned into this.

im finally free. Nsjinsijnisn

(Absolutely don’t do this if you aren’t comfortable) ENA (Dream bbq) getting drunk with reader?

•☽────✧˖°˖ FIZZY VALLEY ˖°˖✧────☾•

★ Summary: A Compilation of Headcannons Featuring Drunk Salesperson Ena X Reader

★ Character(s): Salesperson Ena (Ena: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

★ Warning(s): Mentions And Descriptions Of Alcohol

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

☆ You should’ve known something was off when Ena invited you to what she called “a high-stakes engagement strategy brainstorm over beverages.” You were picturing coffee. Not tequila. Not her slamming two shot glasses on the bar and declaring, “Let’s reframe the concept of reality, darling.” She drinks like it’s a performance review—firm eye contact, exaggerated praise, and PowerPoint levels of misplaced confidence.

☆ Once Ena’s a few drinks in, her Salesperson side becomes so aggressively charming it’s like being smothered in coupon codes. “If you subscribe to this partnership now, I’ll offer you unlimited emotional support and complimentary hand-holding,” she hums, voice like cherry soda and half-suppressed giggles. You try to hide your flustered expression. She sees it. She logs it as “high conversion potential.”

☆ Her Meanie side doesn’t come out often at first—until she tries to order fries, but the kitchen’s closed. Suddenly she’s slamming her forehead on the bar, sobbing, “I AM THE TRAGIC EMBODIMENT OF CORPORATE WASTE—WHERE’S MY SALTED PRODUCTIVITY?!” You offer her a peanut. She throws the bowl at a breathing taxidermy moose.

☆ “Here’s your performance feedback,” she slurs, twirling a swizzle stick like a laser pointer, “You’re hot. You show initiative. You opened a door for me once. I will die for you.” You tell her that’s not how feedback works. She pulls out a clipboard from her suspenders and tries to make you sign a form titled “Love Contract (Beta).”

☆ She draws gimmicks on napkins. Terrible ones. Drunk ideas like “emotionally sentient office chairs” and “a pyramid scheme where everyone sells little hats.” You try to say “maybe we shouldn’t do this.” She claps a hand on your back like a frat bro and shouts, “WRONG ATTITUDE, PARTNER. THINK BIGGER.” Then she draws a diagram that’s just the word “VIBES” in a circle.

☆ She stares at you for a full minute, eyes glassy, voice flat: “Are you in the mood for shared assets and mutual annihilation, or should I put on my mask again and pretend not to like you?” You blink. She blinks. Her red side winks. You are either about to get kissed or yelled at. Or both. Probably both.

☆ The bar has one of those ancient karaoke machines. She picks a glitchy jazz remix of the Windows 95 startup sound. Halfway through she forgets the words (there are no words) and starts yelling improvised business jargon in rhythm. “Synergize my dividends, baby! Let’s OUTSOURCE THE PAIN!” Someone in the back cheers. You cry.

☆ Her Salesperson side leans over the counter, cheeks flushed, voice soft and too sincere: “Do you think people like me more when I smile? I’ve been smiling all night. It hurts now. But I—I want to be liked. I want you to like me. For me. Even if I mess up the pitch.” And her Meanie side chimes in: “GØD, I hate being real.”

☆ You’re not sure what triggered it—maybe someone said “quarterly”—but suddenly she’s sobbing into your shoulder like a malfunctioning LinkedIn ad. “I DIDN’T ASK TO BE A PRODUCT OF CAPITALISM! I just wanted to sell fruit. Or stickers! Or happiness! But now I’m selling ME!” You rub her back. She hiccups and asks if you’d still like her if she was “just a weird triangle girl with debt.”

☆ The bar’s quiet now. Her hat’s fallen off. You’re holding her upright and she’s murmuring nonsense like, “Let’s invest in each other’s feelings… diversify the pain into smaller dividends… I’ll build a company out of your laugh…” Then, barely audible: “You’re my best client. Don’t ever unsubscribe.” You smile. You don’t say anything. You just let her rest.

👀

Be Taken

Hi *leaves 4x content and dissapears*

Okay, I’ve seen a lot of people say that the writers “went back” on Four’s character development, and that he acts the same in TPOT as he did in pre-split, and to that I say. No!

Okay, yeah, Four is still kind of a jerk sometimes. He tried to keep the EXITors trapped even after BFB ended. He’s been mean. But I don’t think they’ve completely erased his development either.

Four is a complicated character. In the BFB finale, he apologized to the contestants for hurting them so much. He was genuinely vulnerable and admitted that he was in the wrong, and because of that, he was able to strengthen his bond with those contestants, and that’s great!

But he’s still the same person. He will continue to make mistakes. Even if he’s working towards being a better person, that takes time.

And I’m not saying we should excuse his actions or anything. He absolutely traumatized Pencil and needs to be held accountable for that.

But I think that scene in BFB 30 was showing that he CAN apologize. He CAN recognize his mistakes. He CAN be better, and it’s going to take time, and he will hurt more people, and he might have traumatized the EXITors, and he’s still a jerk sometimes, but he CAN change. He CAN be vulnerable. He CAN apologize to Pencil and try to make things right again. He’s not the same as he was in pre-split, because he has learned that he needs to change, and if he keeps trying he will eventually become a better person.

I don’t think any of that made sense. I’m tired, I’m just trying to force myself awake until TPOT 17 comes out/

Day 28

Jorp