#THANKS FOR READING!

[bluegiragi]

pull yourself together.

read updates early on patreon

#ghosts love language is giving people his spare masks #i think he understood instantly #the moment he saw konig with his hood off with /that/ look in his eyes #ghost is blunt and doesnt mince words but i think hes a softie at heart #and soap just wears his heart on his sleeve #this is the comic where konig officially falls stupidly hard for both of them #poor sap #oh also in terms of continuity yes im aware the knife swaps direction #thats what i get for drawing this across multiple days #anyway #thanks for reading! #konig #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #cod mw2 #soapbox #soapbox saga #giragi art

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Time passes in ways Eddie doesn’t fully understand, in the aftermath of Steve’s injury.

A few days are spent lounging around the hotel room with Steve drifting in and out of sleep, for the most part. Then they graduate to small day trips. Squeeze in some touristy shit; museums and landmarks not too far from the hotel, in case Steve gets a migraine or starts feeling nauseous. 

Day 6 features a follow-up at the hospital, where Steve is told the bandage is no longer necessary to cover the worst of the injury, surgery won’t be necessary, and he’s clear to fly home or wherever else he wants to go. Which means Eddie is also free to leave LA, but he’s already stuck it out this long, so he decides to continue to follow Steve’s lead and spend another day.

He gets a call from Steve before he leaves his hotel room on Day 7, informing him that Max is leading a trip to the beach before they leave California again. Steve insists it’s the least he can do since Lucas flew out to spend the last few days with her, so she could stick around until Steve was clear to travel again.

And that’s how Eddie finds himself wearing lavender board shorts from the surf shop that looked the least like a tourist trap, dousing himself with an entire bottle of the highest SPF he can find before stepping out of the store. His black ripped jeans and the Judas Priest shirt he’d worn, not anticipating a trip to the beach, are folded into the bottom of a large tote Robin is carrying with ease, as she picks out towels for everyone to lounge on. She catches sight of him and raises an eyebrow, but he holds his hand up to stop any commentary.

“Black is just going to make me burn even more than I’m already going to burn, and the blue pair I liked were the wrong size, so lavender it is.” He defends, but she just shrugs at him, keeps smiling and walks over to pay for the towels and her bathing suit.

Behind Eddie, Lucas clears his throat. He spins to find Steve, blushing and glaring at Lucas, who’s grinning. 

“What? Don’t tell me I need to defend the trunks to you guys, too. I thought you’d be on my side.” He whines.

“Oh, I don’t think Steve has any issue with your shorts. Or lack of a top.” Lucas teases, then laughs as Steve swings a soft punch into his shoulder.

“I just…” Steve trails off, turning his attention back to Eddie and Eddie can see the heat rise from Steve’s cheeks up to the tips of his ears, coloring him a soft shade of pink. “I didn’t realize how many tattoos you actually have, I guess.” He eventually settles on, before immediately occupying himself with finding sunscreen.

Eddie lets it slide, and they all pay for what they need, before crossing the street and trekking toward the water. Max is the first to toss her shorts and sandals into a pile, running toward the ocean and diving into the first wave she encounters. Lucas is just a step behind her, and he’s quick to catch her waist and throw the two of them back into the water just as she’s resurfacing.

Robin shoves a rented umbrella into the sand and Eddie helps expand it, as Steve lays out his towel so his face is covered by the umbrella’s shade, but his torso down is exposed to the sun. Eddie, on the other hand, huddles up so most of his body is concealed by the umbrella.

“Oh shit, dude, I didn’t even think to ask. Are you worried about getting seen out here or something?” Steve asks, and Eddie frowns. It takes a moment before he realizes it probably seems like he’s hiding from any potential paparazzi.

“I get bothered so little by media that I hadn’t even thought about that if I’m being honest.” Eddie shakes his head but smiles at how thoughtful Steve is. “I’m just a little too pasty to trust the sun on a cloudy day, so direct exposure like this always makes me nervous. But I like laying in the sand and I’m happy you wanted me to tag along. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” he assures Steve, who smiles at him until Robin mocks a gagging noise and makes them both blush and look away from one another.

The salt air and crescendo of waves and bellowing laughter kick up a surprising amount of inspiration for Eddie, and he fishes his phone out of Robin’s bag, typing away while she and Steve sunbathe. 

He’s so caught up in the piece he’s working out that he doesn’t realize anyone has spoken to him until Steve’s pressing a hand to his knee, looking a little concerned. 

“What? Sorry, I got an idea and I had to get it out before I forgot about it.” He mumbles, typing out his final thoughts before giving Steve his full attention.

“We’re going to return the umbrella and grab food before heading back to the hotel to pack up, if you’re hungry?” Steve asks, smiling at Eddie. He looks back at his phone to realize their hour with the rented umbrella is nearly up, so he nods and helps clean up the space they’d taken over, before they find a beachfront restaurant that doesn’t mind that none of the guys are wearing shirts, or that Max’s hair is still dripping wet, leaving a trail behind her as they move to their seats.

Once they’ve eaten, they go back to the hotel. Eddie asks if he can shower to get the sand out of his hair before he changes back into the clothes he’d had on pre-trip to the beach. When he re-enters the room, almost everything is packed up and Robin is on the balcony, talking on the phone.

“Nancy called,” Steve explains from the sofa, as Eddie flops beside him, towel-drying his hair gently. He hadn’t bothered to put his shirt on yet, not wanting his hair to make it all wet while it air dries. “Did they hurt?”

“Hm?” Eddie’s confused instantly, looking at Steve before realizing he’s eyeing the tattoos across his chest. “Some of ‘em more than others, yeah. But it’s a good kind of hurt.”  Eddie explains, and Steve frowns, but that’s okay because Eddie knows not everyone gets what he means whenever he explains the tattooing experience like that. “It’s… kinda like if you have itchy sunburn and you accidentally scratch it? It feels good to have scratched it, but it also hurts.” When Steve still looks confused, it’s Eddie’s turn to frown. He looks over Steve’s exposed arms and takes in the soft golden color they’ve turned and his eyes narrow. “Do not tell me you’re one of those genetic anomalies that doesn’t sunburn and always has a perfect tan, Stevie.”

Now Steve is grinning, throwing a shrug in Eddie’s direction. “Blame it on the 8 years of swim club during the summer off-season.” Steve laughs as an explanation, and Eddie instantly wants to know more about everything Steve has ever done in his life, but doesn’t know where to draw the line at how much is too much to ask to know, so he ultimately doesn’t ask for any further information. Which is fine, because Steve is leaning closer and taking hold of his left forearm, twisting it and tracing a finger along a snake that wraps around his skin. “Do they have meanings?”

“Some of them, yeah. Some of them I just got because I liked how they look.” Eddie admits, watching Steve’s fingers trace along the delicate lines of the snake. “That one’s got its mouth open like it’s hissing and about to bite.” Eddie considers what comes next, and decides to just lay it all out on the table. Steve had been open and honest with him, Eddie could return the favor. “Snakes are supposed to be a symbol of inner strength and perseverance, and they look sick. I got it after my first stint in rehab.”

Steve doesn’t falter, doesn’t even blink, and if Eddie didn’t know better, he would think Steve had already known about his trips to rehab before he’d said anything. Instead, he moves on to trace a blackout band around Eddie’s bicep. “Do any of them have stories you want to share? You don’t have to if it’s too personal.”

He’s stunned to silence for a moment, something that doesn’t often happen to Eddie. But he’s so used to everyone pressing to hear more about rehab and addiction and recovery that his brain physically needs a moment to catch up to Steve. “Oh. Uh. I mean, the one you’re touching doesn’t have a meaning or story, I just liked how it looks.” Eddie thinks for a moment, then, before he holds out the inside of his right forearm. “This one is a puppet master. Master of Puppets is my favorite Metallica song, and when I learned to play it is when I realized that music could actually be a career path for me.” They run through a few other tattoos; the Wyvern, the spider, the “you bow to no one” in elvish down his spine. While still working up the courage to tell Steve more, he switches his approach. “Do you have any tattoos? Or have you ever wanted any?”

“I’ve never thought about it in a serious way, because I’m not sure I’d like having something on me permanently like that.” Steve shrugs, flipping his arm over to point at his right wrist. “The few times I’ve thought about it, it’s been like. A robin, here. The Roman numerals for 94 somewhere. That kind of stuff.”

Eddie smiles softly, nods. “It’s adorable that you’d want one for Robin.” He teases and lets the moment breathe for a moment before he circles back to the tattoo of the snake. “I’m not ashamed of my story, or my history, but we hadn’t really talked about, you know. That aspect of things, yet. But, I mean. I made terrible choices when I was younger, and I got in over my head with drugs harder than I realized. And it’s happened more than once. And I’m not naive enough to think I’m magically cured because drugs haven’t raised an issue for me over the last few years. But I’ve been mostly sober for almost 4 years.”

“Mostly?” Steve asks, concern clear in how softly he speaks, and Eddie can’t help but grin and shrug a little.

“Still some weed sometimes. Still drink beer sometimes. Both in moderation, not anything out of control. It, uh, probably sounds weird but those weren’t substances I had issues with, so I don’t… I don’t really think about drinking or smoking as cheating, but I know some programs would call it that way.” He shrugs, and Steve nods, processing the information.

“Well, thanks for sharing that with me. I know it’s probably not easy to talk about, but. I learned a few new things about you today.” He offers with a little smile, and Eddie nods back. They slip back into silence, until Robin slips back into the room, looking between the two of them expectantly.

“Did you ask him?” She asks, and when Eddie turns his attention to Steve, he flushes.

“No, I uh…” He trails off, picking at a fingernail before looking up at Eddie, then back down at his hands. “We’re flying back to Chicago tomorrow, and we were wondering if you had your plans set for heading back to Nashville?”

“Oh, yeah. When you guys initially said you’d be leaving tomorrow, I booked a flight home for tomorrow afternoon.” He says and watches Steve’s lack of reaction. Wonders if he should have asked about joining them in Chicago until Steve gives an awkward smile. 

“Right, that makes sense.” He nods. “Well, we can all head to the airport together, at least?”

“Yeah, sure.” Eddie agrees, turning to look at Robin in the hopes of finding an explanation, but she turns away to take her turn in the shower, leaving Steve and Eddie together on the sofa.

~~~

Gareth picks Eddie up from the airport once he’s touched down in Nashville, and they head back to his house. Eddie throws himself into the comfort of his sofa, huddling up to a pillow with the intention of taking a nap, but his phone buzzes in his pocket. When he fishes it out, he smiles.

Stevie: Dustin has taken over the apartment, but we’re home. Hope you got home safe, too.

“Why are you smiling?” Gareth asks as Eddie is typing out his response.

“I’m not smiling,” Eddie responds instantly, schooling his expression and shoving his phone back in his pocket.

“Oh, so Steve texted you,” Gareth says, matter-of-factly, before scrolling on his own phone. “Want to order food? I’m hungry and you don’t have anything edible.”

“Why do you assume Steve texted me?” Eddie asks, frowning and sitting up straighter.

Gareth raises his eyebrow and glances over his phone at Eddie before he sighs. “Because you were making that face you’ve been making for the last month every time you text him, and you just got home from a week with him, so obviously he’s texting you again. Your turn to answer; food?”

Eddie stares at Gareth for a moment, watches as he turns his phone around to face Eddie, showing off the Uber Eats screen, before he scoffs and takes the phone to place his order. Before he hands it back to Gareth, though, he holds it just out of his reach. “What face am I making?”

“C’mon, Eddie, don’t play dumb.” Gareth laughs, but Eddie frowns deeper. Gareth frowns back, then. “You really haven’t put it together?”

“Put what together?” Eddie asks, finally handing Gareth his phone back. Gareth takes it, but doesn’t look away from Eddie until he answers.

“Dude, you’re in love with him.” He says, like it’s obvious, before going about placing his own order.

Eddie thinks for a moment. He knows he has feelings for Steve; finds him attractive and interesting and definitely wants to see if something is there. But to know that his friends can see through him puts him on edge, makes him defensive. “I’m not in love with him, we’re just friends.”

“Eddie,” Gareth laughs before he sees the serious look on Eddie’s face and he sighs. “Look, man. I’m not trying to start a fight or make you spiral or anything. I’m just saying. You leaned into a TikTok trend for him, voluntarily learned about the sport he plays, helped nurse him back to health after he got hurt and spent an extra week in LA to be with him longer. And now you’re texting him, again, like you did after we left Chicago. There’s something there, whether you want to admit it or not. Maybe it’s not love yet, but that’s where it’s heading.”

Silence settles over them, just the sound of Gareth’s short nails tapping against the screen of his phone, for a long moment. Eddie processes what he’s said, thinks it over, before flipping back to the text messages from Steve. He reads the words over and over before he decides on an answer.

Eddie: Glad you’re home safe. Miss you already.

He doesn’t have to wait long for a response, as Steve answers no more than two minutes later.

Steve: I miss you already, too, Eds.

Eddie considers responding but decides to tuck the phone back into his pocket instead. He drums his fingers against his knee, settling into a melody before he nudges Gareth’s leg with his foot. 

“Wanna help me set up the studio downstairs while we wait for the food?”

Gareth meets his look, raising an eyebrow. “Inspiration strikes over Steve Harrington?”

“I’ve got, like, four different ideas I started fleshing out in LA without instruments,” Eddie answers instead and ignores the smug look on Gareth’s face as they stand and make their way to the basement Eddie converted into a recording studio to get it ready while their food is delivered.

#glitter & crimson #hockey player!steve harrington #rockstar!eddie munson #steddie au #gareth #corroded coffin #lumax #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #robin buckley #steve harrington #eddie munson #starkidmunson writes #tw: mention of addiction #tw: mention of rehab #if there's anything in here anyone ever thinks i should tag #just tell me pls #thanks for reading!

[anicream]

#mob psycho 100 #mezato ichi #reigen arataka #arataka reigen #ichi mezato #thanks for reading! #had mezato and reigen parallels on the brain #finished just in time for 10.10 orz #ani art #comic

[mars-wuz-herez]

“We did it Shadow! We saved everyone”

I turn to face the planet we just saved. It’s full of so much life. A memory plays in my head, where we would sit in front of a giant window and she would tell me about the beauty of earth. The wonders, the oceans, the life everything that made earth such a gorgeous planet. And after everything I saw, she wasn’t wrong. It truly was a beautiful planet.

If only she was here to see it.

My vision of the planet slowly blurs and I feel my eye lids getting heavy. So tired…

“Shadow!”

I feel arms quickly grab my waist.

“Shadow what’s wrong? Why is your super form fading?”

“My body…it can’t handle so much…”

My eyes are slowly closing. They are doing it before I even notice it. The grip around my waist tightens as I feel myself getting heavier and heavier.

“Hey hey hey stay with me. Everything is going to be okay. We’ll make it back please just hang on”

I force one eye open. I can see his super form is fading, his quills slowly turning back blue. He’s struggling.

We’re not going to make it.

He’s not going to make it

“Hedgehog…let go of me. You’re not going to make it carrying me”

“No! We’ll make it. I know we will just please hang on just for a little longer…”

I close my eyes and when I open them again. His quills are quickly fading back to his normal blue.

“Faker save yourself. Don’t die saving me. I’m not worth it and you know it”

“Don’t say that. Your life matters and if I have to die to save it then so be it. In the end I know it was worth it”

I smile at that. It’s nice to know that someone else cares about me. But I know what I must do.

“Sonic”

There are tears in those emerald eyes as he looks at me. I cup his cheek and wipe the tears going down his face. I pull him closer and our lips meet. The kiss is everything I imagined it to be and much more. I pull away.

“Forgive me…”

“What?”

I push myself off him and start falling. Fast. I hear him yelling, crying out my name. I’m sorry Sonic. But I won’t have anyone else die for me, not again. It’s selfish I know but I hope one day you’ll forgive me for doing this. My eyes shut and then it’s nothing but darkness……

“NO!”

I feel two arms wrap around me. I slightly open my eye to see Sonic. He’s hugging me and the last of his super form is fading away.

“I made a promise to you Shadow. You aren’t alone not this time. I’m staying with you until the very end”

I don’t say anything. I can’t say anything. I close my eyes and all I can feel is the warmth of his hug. The darkness takes over and then everything goes black.

#sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow #sonic #sonic movie 3 #sa2 #a possible spoiler???? what???? #jk #I wish though #sonadow fanfiction #if y’all wanna art out of this that fine but please tag me! #sorry guys for some reason it was in my head #I’ll do a mini continuation if this gets over 41 likes or notes or some shit like that #thanks for reading!

[weevmo]

I Have A KO-FI Now!

With some Hi-Res downloads and supporter-only sneaky behind- the-scenes art (Plus WIPS!) If possible and if you enjoy my content consider supporting my art efforts! Things are a bit rough right now and I'd love to keep making for-fun art.

ALSO Updates on Corduroy Stew Progress will be placed here as KMODO and I get it rolling!

#weecmo #personal #ko-fi #thanks for reading!

[passivenovember]

Sharing again!

--

mirrorball

--

“You’re irate,” Robin says. 

And Steve can’t pretend that he knows the definition or that somewhere, past the churning noise of the party, and the wafting heat from the dancefloor, Steve has the slightest clue what to say other than, “Probably.”

Because in all the months he’s known her, if Robin says he’s irate then he probably is.

Steve wants to go home. He’s been over this scene for a while now, holding an empty red cup so no one asks him if he’s up for seconds and thirds. His eyes sting from the smoke. He’s never liked that about parties that don’t rage under his jurisdiction. 

If they were home right now, cutting the night away at Steve’s house, he’d tell them to take it outside. Not everyone’s a smoker. Not everyone wants to die early from nicotine poison, at least not from something as insignificant as second-hand smoke. 

But these are Tommy’s digs. And apparently, anything goes, here. People smoke and drink and fuck right out in the open, probably depositing colonies of lost children on the shag carpet underfoot, and Steve’s had enough. 

“This is really bothering you, huh?” Robin asks. 

“What are you talking about?”

On the other side of the room, past a string of holographic flowers cut from cellophane that dangles in Steve’s line of sight, Billy’s got a kaleidoscope of color dancing on his eyelashes and he’s standing really close to a guy with pretty hair.

That’s all Steve can clock about him.

His hair is nice. Long and brown and curly. 

And Steve’s been told a million times by his grandma that he’s got more to offer than a head of thick, Italian locks but with only a red cup and Robin’s fifty-cent words tethering him to this basement, Steve isn’t so sure. 

Robin knocks their shoulders together. “Billy,” She says. 

Steve can’t tear his eyes away from Billy’s eyelashes. “Where?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not stupid,” Steve snaps. “I just don’t see him.”

As if on cue, Billy steps closer to the guy. Gets right in the crook of his neck 'cause either. He knows Steve is watching or he’s trapped in his own little world.

Steve can’t figure out which is worse. Serving as the gasoline that fuels Billy’s night and earning a front-row seat to whatever happens next or being locked out. Forgotten. 

A sliver of perfect, golden skin peek-a-boos between the hem of Billy’s slashed Metallica tank top and a pair of leather pants Steve’s never seen before. Not in this basement. Not in his entire life.

He knows instantly he wants to see them trapped around Billy’s thighs. And on his bedroom floor. And melting, coughing up smoke until they’re memory when brownie-locks tugs Billy closer by his belt loop.

Steve crumples his red cup. “Let’s go,” He says. 

Again, Steve’s legs don’t move. 

“You should talk to him,” Robin says. “You should do something before–”

“Billy’s not going to fuck him,” Steve tells the shag carpet. He looks at Robin, and peers into her red-rimmed, pitying green eyes, because. “Right?”

She’s probably worried.

She’s probably tearing her hair down from its edgy updo in fear that their very own ray of Californian sunshine is going home with a stranger tonight. 

Robin’s lips disappear between her teeth, “I don’t know,” She says honestly. 

Robin cherry-picks her words. It’s such a contrast to the way Steve bulldozes his way through grand statements and sweeping apologies. It’s comforting. He hangs on her every expression to know he’s not crazy. He tracks the way she stares past those goddamn cellophane flowers until her eyes get big.

Robin glances over, cheeks red as speeding firetrucks even in the shitty light of this shitty fucking basement.

“What?” Steve demands, and he stares at the horizon to find, that. 

Billy and his Motley Crue knockoff have disappeared.

Steve sucks in a sharp, desperate breath. 

“Steve,” Robin says. 

He can’t feel his toes. He knew this would happen. He should’ve told Billy he loved him when he had the chance, and now.

Robin rubs his knee. 

“Maybe they just. Got swallowed by the wallpaper, or something.” And Steve sounds almost believable. He almost believes it himself, you know? Because how could his entire sex life have gone up in smoke in the last thirty-six hours? It doesn’t make a lick of sense. He was inside Billy Hargrove thirty-eight hours ago, and now--

The room might as well be empty.

“This is such bullshit,” Steve shakes his head. “He better wear a condom.”

Robin snorts, “You really think Billy’s gonna top?” Her fingers snake around Steve’s shoulder blades, rubbing at the knot of muscles in the side of his neck. “You can’t let it get to you, Harrington.”

Steve has to swallow the immediate desire to protect his shoddy, half-assed fortress of Cool Guy that has been falling apart, brick by brick, since the first time Billy sported hickeys on his neck in the shape of Steve’s mouth and told him that this meant nothing.

Steve wants to bury his face in his hands. 

He wants to pull his hair out by the root and scream and scream and never stop screaming until finally Billy admits that this is love.

That they’re in love with each other.

Whatever that looks like. Forgetting the condom, maybe.

Robin rocks their shoulders together. “Do you want another drink?”

Steve wants that, too. 

He hands his cup over, instead, “I’m going out for a smoke,” Steve mumbles, because even though Tommy’s parents have money and could replace it no-problem, he still pretends to respect the wallpaper he knows Mrs. Hagan chose special.

--

Billy only lets Eddie get his hands under his shirt because Steve’s watching. 

Only. Steve misses it, because he doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything. He’s too busy talking to Robin, and it’s fucked up that the cocktail of vodka and cheap dope has Billy jealous about that, too. 

Like it’s not enough that he's consumed by jealous hatred of Steve’s sweater for draping itself over him all day, but Billy’s gotta drag his favorite lesbian into this. 

Nothing is holy, anymore.

The angry, love-drunk, pissed-off part of himself whispers that Steve and Robin are going home with each other tonight, even though Billy knows that means hideous fleece pajamas and no grabby hands.

It doesn’t matter.

Eddie scrapes a nail over Billy’s nipple and Billy thinks he’s gotta get even. 

If Steve is going to sit on that fucking couch and uphold their agreement that this means nothing, Billy’s going to fuck this stranger.

Done deal.

So Steve looks away and Billy tugs Eddie’s hand to his waist to get his mind off the mole on Steve’s cheek. 

“Got a condom?” He slurs. He’s fucked up. Can’t even stand straight without the wall or this guy propping him up. 

Eddie detaches himself from Billy’s neck, and. “A condom?” He asks, not understanding.

Even in Tommy’s shitty basement, he’s got nice eyes. 

Big and brown and kind, like Steve’s, but. He’s not Steve. 

That could be good, right? Billy could work with that. “You don’t wanna fuck me?” He bitches. Hurt, maybe.

Eddie shakes his head, “No, I do it’s just,” He catches Billy when he stumbles and puts him back on the wall like Billy’s mom used to do with loose paintings when Neil pushed her into them. “Shit, darlin’, you’re drunk.”

It’s kind of hilarious. 

Billy snorts. Knows if Steve heard him he’d say Billy’s cute, and Billy wants to go home. Not to Cherry Lane, but to Steve. He wants to live there forever, and Max could come, too.

“I am drunk,” Billy admits. He leans forward, wetting his mouth and grinning when this poor country idiot can’t help but zero in on the shine. “I’m real easy when I’m sloshed.”

“I don’t know–”

“C’mon, Harrington says I open up nice when I’m blackout.”

Eddie blinks at him. Straightens his spine, all noble, so he can stare down his button-snout at Billy to demand, “He fucks you when you can’t stop him?”

Like he knows Steve.

Like he knows them like Billy’s his mom and he needs to be rescued.

It pisses him off. Gets his dick to lay flat, for once, and Billy’s fucking tired. “Oh, like you were about to?” Eddies cheeks flare. Billy waddles forward. Says, “I don’t even know you. Stop acting like you know shit about shit because you don’t.” Because. “I love him,” Billy adds, “I’m in love with him because he deserves it.”

Eddie sucks his teeth, “Oh yeah?”

“Maybe.”

“That him over there?” And Eddie jerks a thumb over his left shoulder. Steve’s watching them, cool as a fucking cucumber, and that does something to Billy. 

Makes him look at the situation from outside of it. 

Like, he just offered to fuck this guy, this random dude, and Steve doesn’t even care. And he’s not stupid. Likes to pretend he is, though, and that’s worse. He may be having a grand old time over there with Robs, lounging like a king on the same couch Tommy fucked Billy on last summer, but he knows.

He’s gotta know. 

Billy shakes his head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” He gasps. 

It’s not Eddie’s fault. 

He’s a nice guy. He’s been sweet all night, asking about music and movies and books and only touching when Billy begs him for it. 

Eddie’s baby browns get big. He says, “There’s nothing wrong with you, sugar, people act crazy when they’re in love.” He pushes the hair off Billy’s forehead, looking sweet and concerned, “Do you wanna go outside, maybe? Get some fresh air?”

Across the room, Steve isn’t even watching them, anymore. 

He’s lost interest.

Maybe he never had it in the first place. And it stings. 

Strangely, Billy doesn’t feel like drawing blood when Eddie leaks kindness. He offers his hand and Billy is too drunk to do anything other than take it.

--

Billy’s edges are sharp enough to cut. 

The truth, though, is that Steve likes it. Every drop of venom tastes like gin burning down his throat, hungry for more because it leads to Billy.

Truth is, Steve sees through it. He’s been close enough to that incendiary spirit on dark midnights to notice the fireflies that gather for warmth around the hearth of it all. And the reality that Billy would even let him get close enough for danger to  flash red against Steve’s skin in the first place--

Maybe that’s one of the things Steve likes most. Even if it hurts, sometimes, there will always be proof that Billy was there. And that for a moment, their edges had fit together like pieces of a puzzle. 

Maybe it’s just the beer talking, but Steve can’t let him go.

So Steve busts out of Tommy’s shitty basement, ready to tear springy brown curls from the scalp of that handsome, flirting stranger, when he steps into a puddle of rainwater, instead.

His skin is on fire. The shock of cold puts things into perspective, Steve’s chest opening like a summer tulip to the enormity of the universe.

There’s a calm spring mist, settling like diamonds across his skin. The Earth smells forgotten. Like for years and years, someone took the fabric of the city and rolled it up and stored it away, and now it’s free again. Resting, moth eaten and threadbare, against the backdrop of Steve’s shitty fucking night. Steve’s awful realization, that. 

He loves Billy. Earth-shattering.

And Billy’s going to fuck someone else. Apocalyptic. 

And even if Billy doesn’t make brownie-locks wear a condom, Steve will sit by his bedroom window all night just in case Billy decides that it means nothing, too. Just like them.

“Goddammit,” Steve hops out of the puddle a minute too late.

There’s water in his sock, squishing like fresh mud between his toes. He imagines being home. Warm and showered with a full belly, dozing in front of the fireplace. In Steve’s daydream, he’s naked from the waist down while Billy pushes and pulls his leg hair and calls him colonizer shit spawn for having a marble hearth in his living room. 

It doesn’t sting. Nothing hurts because in Steve’s fantasy, they belong to each other. Every impossible summit has been scaled and they’ve sidestepped waterlogged potholes to get to the truth. Their relationship means something. Everything.

Steve’s heart shudders, reality eclipsing the moon until everything's so bright he catches on fire. 

He stalks to the side-fence, peering into the watery darkness for a shock of American-made blue.

Billy’s car is nowhere to be found. 

And historic, champagne-pink revelations aside, Steve fishes around for his pack of smokes and refuses to admit that he’s out here to kill the guy who wants to get Billy’s mouth on him.

Steve would lose, probably. He’s fucked up. This probably isn’t healthy.

He wonders if Billy would plan his funeral. If he’d cry for him and swear off guys forever and visit Steve’s grave every morning with a hard on. 

Steve hopes so.

He’s embarrassed, to the very root of him. He needs a light.

So Steve bites the butt of his cigarette and pads around the yard, trying to find someone with a matchbox. The Earth is beautiful. Mrs. Hagan is an excellent gardener. All around, bushels of lilacs and marigolds are set to bloom. He studies the fullness of each blossom, eyes tracking the deep green of their clinging branches. 

It’s not even April yet and they’re thriving. That’s just the expert of Mrs. Hagan. She’s a smart girl, she knows how to nurture difficult saplings through hardships and winter months with careful hands, and--

Relationships are kind of like that, people have said.

Someone said that, once. Right?

Steve almost drops his cigarette. He yanks a handful of marigolds from the soil. They come up with their roots still attached.

That's gotta mean something. Bad poetry that feels like the ‘acknowledgements,’ page in one of those books his mom is always reading. Chicken Soup for the Soul. He imagines what Billy would say about this revelation after he’s chewed on it for a while.

Steve pets over the bleeding roots of his bouquet. He's never had gentle fingers. He tries to, with Billy and with everything else, but it always lands a little crooked. 

If Billy knew how hard Steve was trying, he’d probably call him an asshole. Chew on his thumbnail and ask how it is that Steve can read minds, all of a sudden, if Billy didn’t teach him. Because Billy taught him everything he knows, apparently. How to skateboard, how to bake pies from scratch, and how to fuck. 

Which flowers are his favorite.

--

Billy’s nails are sharp enough to pierce the skin. 

He’s never tried to do it on purpose, but he always manages, somehow. 

It’s raining. And Eddie’s hand is soft and warm and his fingertips are calloused just enough that when Billy nearly falls on his ass trying to side-step the tasteful rocks in Tommy’s side-yard, Eddie’s got traction to steady him.

“Nails are fucking sharp,” Eddie says. But he’s smiling.

There’s no shit, in that grin. He’s not aiming to eat Billy’s heart and soul or anything else. Nothing at all like Steve. Billy doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Not like I need to worry about keeping ‘em short,” Billy grins back, sighing in relief when Tommy’s parents had the good sense to invest in picnic furniture, “I’m not a top. I was, until Harrington--”

“I think if you say his name one more time he’ll appear,” Eddie teases, “Like Beetlejuice.”

Billy flops onto a sun lounger. “Think I’m gonna be sick,”

Overhead the stars vibrate, undulating until it feels like God is trying to hack and slash his way through the dark night sky to get at Hawkins. 

“Do you want me to run and grab--” Eddie pauses, staring around the yard with exaggerated care, “Harring--”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“Told ya,” Eddie grins, “Beetlejuice.” 

And maybe it’s just the vodka talking, but Billy’s stomach is stuffed with butterfly hearts when this dumb, sweet, beautiful boy smiles at him.

Eddie perches at the base of the lounger. His boots plant themselves on the ground, nice and respectful, so if someone were to see them they might think Eddie was aiming to rescue Billy from alcohol poisoning right before he calls him a slur and takes off, cackling into the night.

He won’t, though. Eddie’s a nice person and even if he wasn’t, Billy knows when a guy’s caught.

Kid’s been watching him all night. Even now, Eddie peers through a curtain of springy curls, baby browns flitting all over Billy’s face and catching on the things Steve likes best about him, probably. His cum-gutter lashes and dick sucking lips--

“You eyes are really blue,” Eddie squints and slides closer, all, “Like, creepy blue.”

It’s written all over his face. Hook and line, blind with hope for things Billy could only ever give to Steve. "Creepy?"

"Yeah," Eddie says, full of wonder.

“Well fuck off, then,” Billy snaps. “You don’t have to babysit me.”

“You’re not a baby, and I’m just sitting, alright?” Eddie's silver-lined fingers rise to pat around his vest. Billy squares his jaw when he pulls away with an unsheathed cigarette. “I’m smoking,” Eddie tells him, “Just sittin’ down until I can get the cherry sparked.”

“You’re a dumbass.”

“Probably.”

“It’s annoying,” Billy shakes his head, staring out at the trees that line the Hagan’s side-yard, a hop and a skip to the neighbor's place. “You’re a good guy. Why are you so good?”

“’M not good,” Eddie admits softly. “You’re just. You’re fucking gorgeous, alright? And if you don’t wanna go home with me, I gotta keep you safe until the Prince can get to you.”

Billy’s eyes snap, heated, to Eddie’s grinning face. “This isn’t a fairytale,” He says. Because it isn’t.

But Eddie looks so hopeful. 

His eyes melt like chocolate kisses. 

“No, but it could be,” Eddie scoots a little bit closer, hand falling to rest on Billy’s knee, fingers slipping along leather. “Can I ask you something, gorgeous?”

“I’m not gorgeous,” Billy snaps. When Eddie grins again, Billy’s face warms. Hot as the sun. “Spit it out, Munson.”

“Why are you in love with him?”

“I’m not in love--”

“Billy.”

He’s uncomfortable, like this. A bug under a microscope so he’s gotta show his stinger and scare kindness away.

But Eddie’s too dumb to notice.

A thousand words bubble and rise like champagne at the back of Billy’s throat, each one fizzing out before it can shuffle past his teeth. All of them will land like fists. Split skin and draw blood, so.

Billy shakes his head. Settles on, “He’s not what I expected.”

“Yeah, but why him? I could be different than what you expected. I mean--”  Eddie’s fingers dance along Billy’s thigh. Touching but not quite, at the same time. Making his skin dance. “I already am, right?”

Billy shivers. 

“Yeah,” He admits. It burns like alcohol on open wounds to say out loud.

But the thing is-- 

“Steve’s different than you. Than everyone. He’s sweeter and brighter than anyone I’ve ever met. Event though it took forever to get there. He’s got layers. He’s not what you’d expect, because. He’s got this big fucking house, right? And it’s full of shit. Name-brand poptarts and every vinyl you could imagine and all his blankets are soft enough that they’re probably lost clouds, or something. And even when I’m with him, like. Even after we fuck and Steve gets what he wants from me, he always asks if I’m hungry. And he doesn’t believe it when I say that I’m full. That I’ve gotta jet. He cooks really good pasta. He sings. He’s got a good voice, and he puts my name in the song, sometimes. He lets me eat in bed and he plays with my hair while I fall asleep, and. That’s the biggest thing for me, you know?”

Eddie’s fingers wrap, like warm summer vines, around his own.

“I don’t sleep good anywhere. I get cagey, ‘cause of my old man. I’m always on alert. There was a while, last summer, where I slept with my shoes on. ‘S why I’m such a bitch all the time, I’m fucking exhausted, but with Steve,” Billy’s shaking. He’s gonna vibrate out of his skin. “Steve is my home town. He’s home, on a Saturday morning. I’ve never felt safe with anyone else.”

Billy’s going to cry.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Eddie doesn’t notice. And if he does notice, Eddie refuses to care. His eyes are intent on Billy’s face when Billy admits--

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Eddie tells him, “It’s alright.”

“Vodka turns me into a chatty bitch. I’ve never told anybody that, before,”

Eddie’s thumb strokes soft over Billy’s palm. “The stuff about Steve, or--”

“Any of it,” Billy looks up, caught in waves of warm, sweet brown. He sniffs, suddenly more nervous than he’s ever been in his entire life. “If you fuckin' yap to anybody about this, Munson--”

Eddie’s smile is like the setting sun. “Put your teeth away, baby, I’ll take it to my grave.”

Billy opens his mouth to say thank you. To admit that this night, for all the good and bad and embarrassing, has made everything feel easier. 

Eddie seems to hear it. To feel it in his bones.

He kisses the back of Billy’s hand, lips sliding warm and soft along Billy’s thumb, to the pad of each finger. 

Billy’s heart hammers, unsteadily in his chest, when those lips press lewd, against his palm.

“Eddie,” Billy mumbles, sounding frail even to his own ears. “Eddie, I--”

--

A bomb goes off. 

Steve thinks the sky might as well be full of mushroom clouds because war’s waged when brownie-locks takes all of Steve’s knuckles across the bridge of his nose.

Steve’s not left handed.

The punch, it’s. It’s awkward and more force than anything else, and it hurts like hell. Something’s probably broken.

“Fuck,” Steve hisses, same time Billy’s new boyfriend says, “Shit,” and Billy puts both of his calloused, strong, stocky, perfect fists on Steve’s chest to shove him back.

Steve goes easy, because he deserves it. He promised himself he wouldn’t do this. 

But. He’s seeing red, and he’s gotta know. “Billy--”

Billy looks like he wants to kill him, and he could. Steve would let it happen. He thinks about sinking to his knees right here, dropping the marigolds, begging to get his speech out before the light goes out in the sky forever.

Steve’s still got the unlit cigarette in his mouth. A bouquet in his hands. He takes it out. Drops the flowers. Steps closer and says, “Billy, did he kiss you?”

Because he has to know.

Billy stares at the marigold petals in fear. They're coiled snakes. They're the end of the world. “You’re drunk,” Billy says, same time his new boyfriend bolts upright and fucking cackles. 

“Harrington, huh?” Brownie-locks spits on the ground. It’s red. Steve tries not to feel proud. “Really are Beetlejuice, man.”

Steve ignores the boyfriend. He stares at Billy and tells the truth, “I am drunk. So are you.”

Billy doesn’t look at all like Steve imagined, now that his anger’s planted itself on brownie-lock’s face. 

Billy’s shaking. 

He’s got tears clinging to his lashes, and Steve knows everything’s his fault and he wants to die for that, but all the guilt in the world doesn’t stop him from turning on Billy’s new boyfriend and taking a step forward when brownie-locks says, “I wanted to fuck him until you came along.”

At least someone answers Steve’s question.

He feels a little bit like throwing up and a lot like going for round two. Turning this guy’s face to hamburger meat, but. 

Billy gets between them.

And he’s vibrating.

And no matter what they’re dealing with or how much they’re refusing to talk about, Steve never wants to be the reason Billy can’t hold still.

Regardless, Steve scoffs. “You’re seriously protecting this guy? From me?” 

He’s furious.

He’s so hurt and bleeding inside and angry--

“Go home, Steve,” Billy mutters. He’s not shaking anymore. He stands his ground, looking every bit like an avenging angel, and.

Steve loves him. He’s proud of him, but. “You don’t want me.” The words sound wrong. Garbled and stretched out.

The boyfriend stand ramrod straight all of a sudden, like, “Wait, that’s it?” And he looks so confused.

Hurt, even.

And that pisses Steve off, you know. Gets him feeling brave.

“What do you mean ‘that’s it,’” Steve paces forward, stopping only because Billy tacks a soft, warm hand to the center of his chest. “Are you really asking to get your dick knocked off, freak?”

Billy’s boyfriend laughs, “God, you’re so pretty and so, so fucking stupid.”

Steve knows. About the second part. So he rolls his neck and says, “Why are you still here?” Because--

Billy gets in front of him. He looks so beautiful, with moonlight painting his curls more bronze than gold. And his lashes are clumped together. “Why?” Steve asks again, because he has to know.

And suddenly it’s like everyone runs out of words.

They stare at him. Billy’s boyfriend rocks a little on each foot, eventually peering at the ground like there’s no place he’d rather be than nestled under it. "What's the with the flowers?" He asks.

The longer they ignore him, the more Steve’s set on digging the guy a hole in the ground. Burying him and leaving the marigolds there as a memory.

Steve’s losing his mind.

He’s going crazy, he--

“Why is this guy here with you, Billy?” Steve demands.

Billy stares at him, pretty pink mouth open. His palm is so warm on Steve’s chest, it’s like a sun spot. 

“Why do you want him here and not me?” Steve grabs that hand. Holds onto it, says, “Do you love him?” 

Billy bares his teeth. “Does it matter?”

“Billy,” Steve whispers. “Are you--of course. Of course it matters, you. You have to know, that--”

And he’s grateful to Billy’s boyfriend for not laughing at the way his voice, fucking. 

Cracks.

Bleeds.

Steve takes a deep breath. Tries again. “You’ve gotta know, right?”

And.

Apparently not.

Billy blinks at the stars, blue like the ocean set to spill. He takes his time. Gets his feet under him. Eventually, Billy bares his fangs and stares right through Steve’s skull. 

“Thought I meant nothing to you, Harrington,” Billy says.

And Steve dies.

He might as well not even exist. He might as well be a window. 

“Thought you just wanted me because I’m a warm place to slide into a night,” Billy rumbles, and. 

Steve. He’s never had teeth pulled when he could feel it. He’s never snapped a bone in half. He’s never seen God, either, but. 

He imagines it would all feel the same when he finally has the courage to say--

“I was just following your lead,” Steve’s so embarrassed. And ashamed. He can’t believe he made Billy feel like that, like a figment. 

It hurts worse than any pain he could conjure for himself, so.

"I. I mean, I picked marigolds for you, baby." Steve toes the edge of the cliff. “I love you," He tries, and. 

Falling feels a lot like flying, apparently.

Billy’s boyfriend disappears. Steve considers it a sign that even though Billy won’t look at him, he hasn’t pulled his hand away, yet.

#harringrove #angst with a hopeful ending #king steve #i love it when they're both assholes #anyway #thanks for reading!

[violinist-rachel]

"...Zzz...."

#dynart #castle of nations #rachel #well #it's not as refined as I would've like #but it IS done #and that's all I can ask from myself at this point :'] #tomorrow will be the last day of activity! #it's not too exciting but it's how I wanted to end off this segment since coming back :] #thanks for reading!

[mynamesaplant]

Friendship Smells like Pizza and Laundry Detergent

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

Just a little short story about @critterbitter's hc of Emmet, Ingo, and Elesa. Please go take a look at Critter's work, it is beautiful in every sense of the word.

Japanese is not my native language, so if I've made any errors please let me know. Also, I'm sorry for the phonetic spelling for Clay in advance.

Don't like to read on Tumblr? Read it here on AO3.

Enjoy!~

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

Tonight was the night.

Elesa was coming over for a sleep over.

Drayden would have found it amusing that his nephews were running all around his house preparing for their friend’s arrival, but they were quite particular about how they wanted the house to look, and it was turning his house upside down. Already the linen cupboard and beds were ransacked for every sheet, blanket, comforter, and pillow that he owned. All around him, the boys meticulously constructed a pillow fort, and it took every ounce of willpower in his body to ask them not to make such a mess of his living room.

He sucked it up. They were excited their friend was coming over – their only friend.

Listening to Ingo’s meandering request to have their friend over for a sleep over, Drayden could tell this meant a lot to them. Even Emmet, who was hard pressed to pipe up his opinions to him was bobbing his head along in time with his brother’s speech and offered stilted yeps to emphasize his brother’s points, eyes glittering with such hope that it physically pained the Dragon master to say no.

“Verrrrry good!”

Emmet chirped, crawling out by the tv, which also had a sheet over it. They had tried to put a quilt over it and Drayden pointedly told them no. Although not the newest model by a long shot (he hadn’t been able to be as frivolous with his money since his nephews had been dumped come to live with him), he didn’t want to risk the television falling over and breaking, or worse injuring one of the kids. Emmet and Ingo were exceedingly careful with everything in the house, they treated everything like glass with a steady mantra of ‘safety first’ that he was sure would be seared into his brain for the remainder of his days.

With this one exception, the twins frequently kept to themselves and their own possessions, either roaming his property, Anville Town, or in the woods just outside town. This brief and altogether understandable lapse of judgement Drayden could overlook – just this once.

“Ingo, are the snacks secured?”

“Affirmative!”

Ingo moved into his periphery with an armload of bags, ducking beneath the patchwork fort to deposit them, and the other was bouncing on the balls of his feet, working out his excitement through movement. Drayden watched this all go down from his armchair that he had dragged out of the way for them to build, steely eyes glancing over the top of his drooping newspaper every so often. The boys surveyed their work, beaming in their own ways at the admittedly impressive arrangement.

“Please try not to spill anything on to the carpet.”

Their uncle rumbled and they both assured him that that would not happen. They had already planned for any accidents by retrieving a towel and handheld vacuum to clean up any messes that were inadvertently created.

“We shan’t.”

Ingo promised and Drayden grumbled something unintelligible behind the rag, staring at the same article he’d been reading about the delays for the new rail lines out of Nimbasa. Something about permits and a minor scandal with the head of transportation using Pokémon laborers that weren’t native to Unova.

Warm weight settled against his legs and Drayden lowered the paper to his lap, narrowly avoiding Emmet and Ingo as they stared up at him. He braces himself because he knows this look – although it was not presented in this double whammy form – and it usually came with an out of the ordinary request.

“Yes?”

“We would like to request three pizzas tonight because we are not sure if Elesa will like the toppings we like.”

Drayden had to bite his tongue because nobody liked the toppings the twins liked. Most children didn’t like white pizza with broccoli or Alolan style – but Emmet and Ingo did.

“You’re not going to eat three pizzas worth of pizza. It’s bad for you.” Not to mention all the junk food that they bought in preparation for the sleepover. They’re kids Drayden, he told himself, they’re excited and their eyes are literally bigger than their stomachs in this case.

Compromise.

“I’ll get you some personal pizzas. How does that sound?”

They looked positively ecstatic.

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

The bedraggled looking man who escorted his young daughter to his door had a glassy look to his eyes, waving to his daughter as she offered Drayden a polite bow and foreign greeting to Drayden before tearing over to Emmet and Ingo. Her Blitzle tottered in after her cautiously with a red backpack draped over the Pokémon’s back. If Drayden had to guess from the flared nostrils and the darting eyes, the small equine creature could smell the Druddigon lurking in his room on the second floor and was nervous. His Druddigon was too well trained to attack, but smaller Pokémon tended to get nervous around most dragons.

“Thank you for having my daughter over.”

Drayden had almost forgotten the man was there, so small and quiet as to be completely unnoticeable. His voice was flat, almost toneless, which reminded Drayden of Emmet, who had a hard time conveying his emotion through his words unlike his brother. This man sounded exhausted.

“Sure…”

There was an uncomfortable pause as the man blinked at him, Drayden almost thought he wouldn’t supply his name – instead, just pass out in his doorway.

“Rin Kamitsure.”

“Drayden Gray.”

Rin’s torso was already bending forward, clearly a reflex he had developed from a lifetime of practice before he jerked to a stop. His arm lurched up, perfectly straight to the point of looking uncomfortable, holding out his hand and staring expectantly for Drayden to take it.

The handshake was cold, absolutely nothing friendly to the stiff fingers, and went on for far too long, neither of them seemed capable of breaking the shake first.

“さようならお父さん.”

Rin’s daughter’s voice sounded flinty, almost as though she was annoyed that he was still there. If her father noticed the chill to her voice, he didn’t acknowledge it, although Drayden guessed he most certainly did not from the slow way he let go of the Dragon master’s hand.

“Bye Ellie.”

He nodded to Drayden and trudged back up the walkway and down the street. When he turned around to face the children, Emmet and Ingo were thumbing through some books while the girl scribbled feverishly on a whiteboard. With her tongue stuck between her teeth, she was scribbling symbols that were unfamiliar to Drayden with careful strokes of the marker before her hands moved in a flurry before her. That he recognized as sign. The boys had been practicing together. This girl must have been the reason.

The signing was actually helping his nephews a lot, each had their own unique challenges with how they communicated with the world around them, and signing was helping them bring a different option for verbalizing their thoughts and feelings. Emmet in particular was fast to pick it up, his lack of inflection was made up for by his expressive features, which helped emphasis his signing. Ingo’s language was emotional from the word go, but his face was like stone, that’s where his gesticulations and other body language helped him articulate his sign better.

Drayden never could read either unless they told him how they felt. It also didn’t help that the brothers were so in sync with one another that they often left their uncle metaphorically scrambling to catch up to understand them.

“Oh! Elesa, you must meet our uncle.” Ingo insisted, ushering her over to him where she bowed again. Her face scrunched and she glanced toward his nephews, Emmet silently mouthing the words ‘hello sir’ while Ingo announced that this was their goof friend Elesa. “She moved here recently with her father from Sinnoh.”

“Hello… sir?”

She said slowly, watching Emmet mouth the words one more time, before looking up at Drayden. Most children found him intimidating between his stature and inscrutable expression, but this little girl looked him in the eye with nothing short of fierce determination. She refused to be intimidated. That made him smile.

“Nice to meet you.”

Ingo frantically flipped through the pages of the book still in his hand and squinted at the page – dear Reshiram, was Ingo going to need glasses soon? Yet another thing to add to the ever-growing list of things he didn’t sign up for but found himself doing. The text was inches from his nose,

“はじめまして.”

It must have been a translation into Kantonese and Elesa gingerly corrected his pronunciation. Drayden had prepared to get virtually no sleep tonight because the kids would be loud, but it appeared he had nothing to worry about.

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

Their uncle said he would be in his study if they needed anything after ordering their pizzas for the kids and Bouffalant burger for himself. He handed Ingo some money to tip the driver and reiterated to be careful with any food and drinks on the carpet.

Ingo offered him a smile, something that made Drayden’s heart warm a little because that did not always sync up properly with his eyes to make the expression seem so genuine. He truly wished he felt that way more often, but that kernel of resentment he felt for Kaita and Lucielle – especially Kaita. His sister all but dumped her sons on him, their parents too elderly to look after them and Lucielle’s father rendered incapable of care due to dementia.

His burgeoning career nearly came to a screeching halt when Emmet and Ingo were unceremoniously dropped into his life, Drayden was lucky he had such good friends like Clay and Lenora who offered him endless support and advice.

------

“s’not their fault, ye can’t blame ‘em fer what their mas did.”

Clay had told him, taking a long pull on his cigar just as Drayden stamped out his half-smoked cigarette. A habit he had only recently picked up and was not trying too hard to quit. The clove scented smoke soothed his nerves like nothing else could these days.

“Be patient. Kids like them can have a hard time expressing themselves.”

Lenora advised when Drayden came to her with the twins’ charts, panicked because he wasn’t sure he would be able to sufficiently take care of children like Emmet and Ingo. Audiobook and podcast recommendations always arrived in his emails when he felt the weight of the situation suffocating him.

------

He was glad he listened to her because they had bloomed into such wonderful boys.

Although that bitterness was still rooted in his heart, he did his very best to never expose it to Emmet and Ingo, because they had done nothing to earn his ire. It shamed Drayden to no end that sometimes it did come out in the form of hands-off parenting, in his absence where his nephews needed a parent (one which he was never quite prepared to be).

Drayden did the unthinkable and lightly tousled Ingo’s hair, reminding him to get the door when the delivery driver came, and to give the driver their tip. When he removed his hands, Ingo’s eyes were round and shining, his mouth was slightly open as he looked up at his uncle. His nephew managed a nod, lifting his hands to pat his hair, and slowly made his way back to his brother and their friend.

About thirty minutes later their pizzas arrived and all three kids pelted toward the door, lurking just over Ingo’s shoulder like hungry Sharpedo in anticipation. A chorus of ‘thank yous’ sent the delivery driver on her way, grinning a little at the kids as the door closed. With the personal pizzas divvied up properly, the trio clambered into the fort and settled in for the preselected documentary.

Tynamo and Blitzle were under there, already snoozing as the kids ate and watched the screen transfixed with the visuals. Emmet and Ingo had selected a documentary about Unova, selecting Kantonese subtitles for Elesa so she didn’t have to rely on the audio. Although it wasn’t their preference – that was reserved for trains and professional battling – the boys chose this documentary to help acquaint Elesa to the unfamiliar region she found herself in. She didn’t really seem to have an interest in Unova at all, so they wanted to change that.

To them, Unova was the most beautiful place in the whole world, but admittedly, they hadn’t been to many places. Galar sounded amazing, but Emmet and Ingo had to acknowledge that they were biased because there were just so many trains there – so it had to be amazing, right?

They had come to love Unova through the pictures and trinkets that their mothers sent to them. Glass paperweights that contained stylized Frillish suspended in a permanent bubble from Humilau. Frayed ticket stubs from the sports arenas in Nimbasa. Luminous crystals that refracted a thousand tiny rainbows, and still contained a little bit of static hidden in their crystalline depths, from Chargestone Cavern. Pressed flowers and leaves that still smelled as fresh as the day they were picked from Pinwheel Forest. Vibrant, but uncomfortable t-shirts advertising the famous Casteliacone alongside the stand’s Vanilluxe mascot, Mochi.

But their most prized possession? Two slightly tarnished, golden subway tokens with a stamp of the front of Gear Station on one side and the NTA symbol on the other. The transit system operated on automated cards and scanners and digital tickets nowadays, but these? These things were ancient. Mom had found them and sent them back with burgundy lipstick smudged at the bottom by their names.

Found in an antique shop a few blocks from the station. A set soon to follow, my loves.

The train set had never come, so Emmet and Ingo learned to be satisfied with the tokens.

“エモンガ?”

Elesa jerked forward with her eyes wide while she gesticulated at the screen with a ferocity that made the Pokémon wake with a start. Blitzle nickered softly, stretching his neck to rest on Elesa’s knee and nuzzling her skirt until her hand came to stroke his flank absently. Tynamo flitted over to Emmet, tucking himself into the loose collar of his trainer’s sweater and buzzing Emmet with a faint electrical charge.

A pair of Emolga were skittering across the screen; chittering and squeaking while they darted through the trees of Lostlorn Forest without a care in the world at the humans filming them. The next shot cut to two males with their hackles raised and massive incisors displayed in their yawning maws, the smaller one was getting bullied out of the other male’s territory. Another shot took the documentary to a whole tree hollow full of feathery down, fur, leaves, and dry grass with small, glittering black Emolga eyes blinking back at the lens.

Elesa covered her mouth to stifle a little noise of adoration, unwittingly leaning forward with undisguised interest at the flying squirrels that plagued the whole of Unova. Emolga were few and far between in Anville Town compared to the rest of the region, they were more at home in the trees, which their hometown lacked to accommodate the rail yard and its acres of track.

“I… love…”

Elesa said the words slowly, feeling how the Galarian syllables felt in her mouth. It sounded like such a mouth full compared to 好きだ. The name of the Pokémon sat fresh in her mind as she watched them on the screen, so carefree and happy that it made her smile softly with a fondness she thought she only held for Pachirisu.

“エモンガ. Eh- what… is エモンガ?”

Emmet and Ingo exchanged looks, although they didn’t understand Kantonese, and they were at times hard pressed to understand other people’s thoughts and feelings, Elesa was telegraphing all they needed to know with how her blue eyes stared with longing at the screen.

“Emolga.”

Emmet said slowly and watched Elesa incline her head, acknowledging that she had heard him but not looking his way.

“Emolga…”

She repeated the word, drawing out each sound as she heard it from Emmet’s lips. They sat in silence for a moment, the documentary had moved on to Venipedes and their natural instinct to curl up when in danger.

“They’re delightful little scamps.”

Ingo finally said, putting down his slice of pizza on a neat square of paper towel and scratching his cheek, hesitating on even bringing it up when Emmet piped up.

“Mom has one. Her name is Daisy. She likes to groom mom’s Stoutland’s coat. Brutus likes that verrrrry much.”

Ingo pursed his lips, balling his hands up in his lap, waiting for the question that inevitably came up when anyone heard about their mothers. Uncle Drayden rarely spoke about them, only passing off the mail that one or both had sent to their sons. People were curious to say the least when Drayden suddenly had two boys in his home and when their guardian didn’t satisfy their curiosity, it meant Emmet and Ingo were often asked directly.

“Where are your mothers?”

Emmet would stare at the ground, twisting the hem of his shirt in his hands, and Ingo would go unusually quiet, fumbling for words because he didn’t know what to say. Their mothers dropped them off here one day and they hadn’t seen them since, plenty of letters and trinkets, but never their mothers.

They didn’t know why. They tried to be good kids. They tried to be the best kids. They got good grades. They never caused trouble. They always did their chores and took care of the Pokémon.

It must not have been enough for them to stay.

Emmet shifted on the spot, tapping his nails against the plastic cup to fill the silence, and wordlessly murmuring something under his breath. Ingo knew it was the train schedules in and out of the rail yard. Emmet recited them when he said or did something that he didn’t realize was uncomfortable.

If Elesa noticed the weird pause, she didn’t mention anything, but she did say,

“I… want… one. Emolga.”

The moment of tension passed, and the twins felt like they could breathe again. They didn’t know that Elesa felt those same things about parents and had just as hard of a time putting those feelings into words. For now, they didn’t have to talk about it. They didn’t have to do anything, but sit back, eat pizza, and go to sleep late into the night in a castle of blankets that smelled like fresh laundry detergent.

“Have no fear! We will locate a nest and you can catch as many Emolga as you want.”

“Yep yep! A whole team!”

Elesa caught maybe every other word, but her mouth curled and her eyes crinkled at the excited murmurings of her two friends.

#pokemon #submas #nimbasa trio #pkmn #fanfic #fan fic #fan fiction #fanfiction #i think this is the biggest departure i took from critter's work? #idk i was just thinking about drayden and the other adults #thanks for reading!

[anewcalamity]

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A New Calamity: Page 464 Chapter 16 Cover

I'm back! (Dec. 6 2023) It's been a VERY rough road since the end of Ch 15. I found out I have two new tumors in my brain. Soon I will have to do precision brain radiation on top of the chemo I've been receiving. I'm not sure what the side effects will be, probably memory loss, pain, shaky hands and confusion (if my experience with brain radiation in 2019 turns out to be similar). I'm just going to take it slow and try to make really good work. Thank you to all my readers and patrons. :) Donations are appreciated. Patreon / Ko-fi / Paypal

ANC Ghirahim @stylincheetah

Leonus @sparksplitter

Va Eheníhv @gerudoshikyapril  

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5 • Chapter 6 • Chapter 7 • Chapter 8 • Chapter 9 • Chapter 10 • Chapter 11 • Chapter 12 • Chapter 13 • Chapter 14 • Chapter 15 • Chapter 16

#a new calamity #chapter 16 #linke #ganondorf #kohga #ghirahim #leonus #sheikah ronin #zelda #totk #botw #thanks for reading!

[coladaminx]

he's gonna temporarily die and kacchan better catch him (╥﹏╥) i'm not lookin forward to this but i sense something crazy is happening..

#bnha #mha #mha406 #my hero academia #bkdk #dkbk #bakudeku #dekubaku #izuku midoriya #bakugou katsuki #major angst is on the horizen #unless we get a pov switch which is fine #my heart could use a break lol #but kacchan bridle carry when? #one last thing #i'm throwing this on the table #hori is surpassing our expectations #SO LET ME SEE KACCHAN REVIVE IZUKU WITH A KISS! #THANKS FOR READING! #:3

[selkienight60]

💕♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡💕♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡💕♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡💕♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡💕

Chapter 4 of Aftershock

Posted the most recent chapter up on AO3 a couple of days ago, but I did quite a bit of work on chapter 5 tonight, so I thought I might signal boost while it was on my mind.

Spread the word if you like seeing Conner/Kon being put in situations, or if you like Clark to suffer. (Lots of "Oh no! I'm your dad, boogie woogie woogie" in this one!)

💕♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡💕♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡💕♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡💕♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡💕

🌸 If you liked this work please feel free to let me know by leaving a comment here on tumblr, or on AO3 - they make my day every time!

🌸 Please feel free to subscribe to me on AO3.

🌸 Translations/remixes/edits/fanart, etc. are always welcome of this work!

🌸 Thanks for reading!

💕♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡💕♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡💕♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡💕♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡💕

#Conner Kent #Kon-El Kent #Clark Kent #Superman #Superboy #Fanfiction #AO3 #My Work #WIP #Current WIP #Thanks for reading!

[giggly-squiggily]

Caught In The Smoke (My Hero Academia)

Heyo! I wrote this little ol' fic for the wonderful @cupcake-spice13 a while back and- much like the fic from earlier this week- forgot to post it! Hehe, it's been one of those weeks y'all. Anywho- I hope y'all like it! :D

CW: Swearing

Summary: Dabi finds Hawks during a fight for a quick chat. In the process of that, he discovers something quite interesting about the bird man.

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @baby-tickles2022 @backy-san @nutzgunray-lvt @sarahmaystock5578 @rachi-roo

“No! Nohoohohohohoho, wait plhehehehhehhahhhhse!”

“Aww, can’t take it, birdy?” Dabi’s voice was a low rumble, close enough to his ear so no one else could hear him. “Such a proud hero, taken down by a few flicks of my fingers. Come on birdie, sing me a song~”

~~20 Minutes Earlier~~

“Hawks, MOVE!” Endeavor called out, the only warning the Number 2 hero received before a flaming tin soared their way. With a leap and shout, Hawks was in the air, just narrowly avoiding the explosion that followed. His vision was filled with smoke tinged with blue, choking his lungs and making his eyes water. 

“Shit- Endeavor? Endeavor, where are you?” Hawks yelled, trying to find a beacon of red among the smoke. There was the faint sound of screaming- civilians. He needed to get to them- he needed to help them escape-

“Where are you going, birdy?” A new voice purred from behind. Hawks twisted- finding none other than Dabi standing among the smoke. “Surely you aren’t planning on running away so soon?”

“Miss me already?” Hawks pulled out a sword of feathers, readying the blade. “And here I had the impression you didn’t like me that much.” He shot forward, sliding under a blaze of flames that Dabi released. The sword caught fire almost immediately, burning into a crisp before fading into ash. Alright- no weapons then. We’re doing this barehanded.

“Possibly.” Dabi’s lips pulled into a grin as he evaded Hawk’s various attacks, dodging flying kicks and fists. “Figured since I was in the area I might as well surprise you.”

“You really shouldn’t have.” Hawks ducked down to kick his feet out- but the clog of smoke was thick, and his swipe was too short. “Most people prefer flowers as their surprise- not exploding tins of oil.”

“Good thing we’re not most people.” Dabi grabbed his ankle, yanking once. Hawks slipped, his hands scraping into gravel and cooling tar as the flame-villain dragged him over. “Come here, Birdie. We’ve got quite a bit to talk about.”

“Flattered, but I’d prefer candlelight dinner to this.” Hawks twisted to his belly, readying his wings. A flick of them will send the gust away- giving Endeavor the chance he needed to attack. “Why don’t you ask me on a proper date next time, eh Hot Stuff?”

“Now now- what’s the rush?” Dabi’s hand shot down to Hawk’s wings, pushing down slightly. “Ready to leave so soon-”

“EEH!”

Both of them paused. It suddenly seemed like the chaos around them faded away as they both took in the sound Hawks let out. Dabi blinked, eyes wide. Hawks felt his face burn.

“Oh wow.” Dabi finally spoke, something sly and mischievous in his tone. “What do we have here?”

“N-Nothing!” Hawks yelped trying to wiggle forward, but a knee to his lower back kept him there. “Nothing at all! St-Stay back!”

“Nothing? Then why do you sound so nervous?” Dabi teased softly, his voice close as fingers began slowly walking up Hawks spine, starting at the curve of his hips to the dreaded spot between his shoulder blades; just where the base of his wings sat. “I think you’re hiding something from me birdie; and you know how I get when secrets are brought up.”

“This is hahahrdly the time for that!” Hawks barely held back a giggle when the fingers against his back rested directly between his wings, tapping softly. “Leheheht me up, we chahan talk about it lahahhater!”

“Hm…no. I wanna talk about it now.” Dabi smirked. “Come on, let’s see just how ticklish you really are.”

~~Current Time~~

Endeavor wheezed around the thick fog of smoke, waving it away from his vision as he searched for Hawks. He heard him yell out, he couldn’t be that far. “Hawks! Hawks were are-”

“EEEH!”

The high pitched noise made him freeze, spinning on his heels. That was Hawks for sure- did he get hurt in the explosion? The civilians were escorted out- it had to be him. He charged forward. “HAWKS-”

What he witnessed left him speechless.

“Ahehahahahhaha! Nohoohohohoho! Nohooohohh, sthahahhahaap ihihihihihihit!” Hawks was on the ground, kicking and flailing like a child having a tantrum. Above him sat a figure, his face hidden by the smoke. What wasn’t hidden was his hands, currently massaging the space between the Pro-Hero’s wings like a trained masseuse. “Geheheheheht oohohohoohohff!”

What the actual- Endeavor blinked, shaking his head. Was this person a villain? Were they the cause of all this? And if so…why tickling? Was he trying to get information?

He should run over there- swat away this supposed tickle villain; capture him for interrogation. That’s what a number 1 hero does, right?

And yet…seeing Hawks on the ground laughing so hard, his face red as a beet and cheeks dimpled…it was an oddly wholesome sight. Satisfying even, given how Hawks was constantly finding ways to get under his skin. He hoped the smoke hid his grin as he shook his head; amazed by the sight.

Hawks eyes shot to him, widening some when they met Endeavors. “Yohoohhoohohhou! Nohohoohohho, lohoohohoohohohk aawhhahhahahahhahy!” He cried, face flushing an even deeper shade of red. He tried to hide his face, but this mysterious attacker dug their hands into his armpits, making him arch with a squeal. “ENDHEHEHEHEHVOR HEHEHHEELP!”

Snapping out of his reverie, Endeavor nodded. Right- middle of a fight. He shot his arms out, sending a burst of fire overhead.

~~~

“Shows over. Gotta go, Birdie.” Dabi, watching the smoke start to fade, smirked down at the giggly hero. In a rare show of fondness, he leaned forward, kissing the top of Hawk’s head before climbing off. “Find me later.”

The smoke cleared, leaving Hawks lying across the pavement with the ghost of Dabi’s lips against his hair. He winced when Endeavor’s feet came to view, slowly peeking up at him with a flushed face. “Dohoohhn’t say…a woohohohrd.”

Endeavor, to his credit, stayed silent. Even if his lips were twitching with restrained mirth. Even when he averted his gaze to hide a chuckle with a stern cough. Even as he helped Hawks up to his feet, his hand “accidentally” brushed against his wings, making him jump with a squeak.

“Are you a-alright?” He grunted, taking a short breath. Hawks glared, hoping it would hide his mortification. “Not hurt?”

“Besides my ego? Nah. Though these are gonna sting.” He held up his hands, wincing at the red lashes against his skin. “Is there any way we can leave out…that?”

“I’ll just say you were unconscious due to the smoke.” Endeavor concluded as they made their way back to their randevu point. “On one condition- you stop making dumb jokes about me for the next few weeks.”

“What?...Okay fine.” Hawks gave in, wings tucked firmly against his back. “Hey erm…thanks, Enji.”

“Anytime.”

Thanks for reading!

#mha/bnha #tickle #tickle fic #hawks #dabi #endeavor #implied Dabihawks #tw: swearing #fight scenes oh my! #Squiggily's having an off week lols #by the time this is posted I should in theory be alright #I will be actually #Thanks for reading!

[mothwingwritings]

Christmas Traditions with Baki, Retsu, Katsumi, Hanayama, Biscuit, Jack, Doppo, Yujiro, and Motobe <3

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!! I hope you are all having a fun, nice, peaceful holiday! I wanted to write a little something for the day (I actually started a full on Christmas fic but very quickly realized I would run out of time oops) so here’s a little blurb I whipped out during down time at work. It’s nothing huge, and it’s basically unedited, but I wanted to give you all a little present of sorts if I could. I know I take forever to update and post things, so thank you all for your patience and being wonderful superb humans. I love you all~

So HAPPY HOLIDAYS! If you don’t celebrate-I hope you have a bitching weekend regardless. B)

(Also this is my first attempt at writing something slightly romantic for Yujiro where he isn’t horrible, so there’s that loooool)

Warnings: None really, it’s very fluffy. Maybe the tiniest hints of sexy stuff?

Your tradition with Baki is opening presents early. He never really had much of a holiday growing up, so the prospect of having a traditional Christmas with the person he loves gets him amped. Though you told him countless times you don’t really need material possessions from him, he approaches the task of gift giving with a sense of childlike enthusiasm. He’s thrilled to act as ‘Santa’ for you, feverishly going over in his head all the things you have ever mentioned wanting or liking in the course of your relationship. You in turn also have fun shopping for him, happy that you get to create pleasant memories for him during the holiday season to replace all the lackluster ones. The day’s leading up to Christmas mount his anticipation-he is as pumped to see and spend time with you as he is to exchange gifts. You’ll be lucky if you can get him to hold out tearing into presents by Christmas Eve, let alone the day of.

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Your tradition with Retsu is preparing a big meal. Christmas isn’t something that Retsu ever really celebrated previously, but he knows it’s an important and fun time for you so he wants to make it special for the both of you. He’s delighted to spend the day with you, and takes great pleasure in cooking a holiday meal the two of you can enjoy. So though he may not go all out on decorations or other holiday activities, you are sure to have a delicious feast in preparation for you at home-a mix of your favorite holiday foods and some of his own favorite recipes. He pours his heart and soul into it, and is sure to shower you in love and affection throughout the day. Seeing your face light up in joy as you take in the food spread before you is the only assurance he needs that he’ll have the honor of being your personal holiday chef many years to come.

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Your tradition with Katsumi is sightseeing. Christmas Eve each year is spent out on the town as you take in all the sights and activities the holiday season has to offer. You look at lights, listen to carolers, go ice skating, grab some hot cocoa/coffee. The whole day you stay linked arm in arm, smiling so hard your cheeks start to hurt. And when it’s time to wind down in the evening you both return home together to spend the remainder of the night wrapped up in each other’s arms, falling asleep to the favorite holiday movie or show of your choosing. He always seems to last longer than you do and considers those moments when you are nestled safely in his arms, right before he drifts off after you, some of the happiest moments of his entire life.

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Your tradition with Hanayama is traveling. It doesn’t matter if you want to go someplace warm and tropical, or cold and frozen. It can be the same place each year or someplace new. As long as he’s able to whisk you away from the hustle and bustle of your daily lives and spend the season in your presence, he really doesn’t give a damn where the two of you end up. He wants to be around you and only you, the best present he can provide and receive being your happiness and love.  Just understand that as soon as your reach your destination, that’s when the real holiday magic begins ~

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Your tradition with Biscuit is story reading. Biscuit’s life is chaotic, and the holiday season does little to lessen this burden. Sometimes it can feel like you barely have time or access to each other at all. That’s why on Christmas he makes sure to dedicate the entire day just for you. Nothing fills him with warmth and peace like Christmas night does, snuggled up together in front of the fire place, taking turns reading each other Christmas stories from an old, well-loved book you’ve had since childhood. When you first suggested it you were afraid he would find it silly or childish, but he was delighted by the idea. He loves listening to you speak, finds peace in the stories your voice weaves for him. He can think of no better way to spend the holiday.

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Your tradition with Jack is a movie marathon. Like his brother, he doesn’t have too many fond memories of Christmas time to reflect on, so when you enter the picture you made it your mission to change this. Appalled that he hadn’t even seen the classics, you suggest a movie night, complete with homemade cocoa and all the Christmas cookies you can eat.  You were concerned he may not like the idea at first, Jack wasn’t one to sit around for long periods of time and you were worried the movies may just bore him. But as he held you firmly in his laps, basking in homemade treats and your silly commentary, you knew this was the right move. Even as he poked fun at some of the films, calling them ‘kiddie movies’ you were ‘forcing him to watch’, you knew the small smile on his lips and the way he held you close relayed what he was truly feeling. This was cemented when he finished the marathon with the question “Same time and place next year?”

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩��̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Your tradition with Doppo is decorating. He humored you when you told him you wanted to do up your home for the holidays, and he let you go all out when it came to picking out and purchasing decorations. Unfortunately for him, all those decorations meant you needed help putting them up-and he was your prime target for assistance. Though originally he agreed begrudgingly, he ended up having a lot of fun decorating with you. It warmed his heart to see the smile that graced your lips as you dressed the tree, and he took great joy in the playful banter you shared over what decoration looked best in this corner of the room, or if the star atop the tree was crooked or not.  It was also nice showing off for you whenever heavier decorations needed to be assembled, he lived for the little blush the fell over your face as you laughed, telling him his flexing and posturing was ‘too much’. Next year he’d have to remember to purchase some mistletoe to add to the arrangement, he already knew the perfect place to hang it ~

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Your tradition with Yujiro is skiing. You had never done it previously and were concerned how good you would be at it. It also didn’t help your anxiety that the one who invited you was Yujiro, and he had gone out of the way to clear out the entire slopes for just the two of you. But even with all your nerves the trip ended up being surprisingly peaceful and enjoyable. Yes, Yujiro picked at you and was obviously disappointed with your lack of immediate skiing skill, but he was also shockingly patient and helpful, giving you tips and guidance that made navigating the slopes much easier. Hours flew by without you realizing, and by the end of the day you were exhausted, but had successfully navigated a hill all on your own (albeit it was a beginner one, which Yujiro made sure to make fun of you for, but a slope is a slope in your humble opinion). Thinking this was a onetime deal you thanked Yujiro for the experience, letting him know it was the most fun Christmas you had had in a while. You were taken aback when he busted out laughing at you, explaining you weren’t anywhere near done-he’d repeat this every year necessary with you until you could get on his level.

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Your tradition with Motobe is to build a fire. It’s a simple thing, and not necessarily a strictly Christmas event, but you both find happiness huddled up together on Christmas night by the fire. You relish in each other’s company, sipping a warm beverage, sharing a blanket, and talking about anything and everything under the sun.  The only time any banter occurs is when you argue over who needs to leave the comforting warmth to go get more firewood. This goes on late into the night until the two of you are too tired to keep your eyes open. The final words to leave both of your lips are affirmations of love and the promise to make the New Year great.

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

#baki the grappler #baki x reader #baki reader insert #baki hanma x reader #jack hanma x reader #katsumi orochi x reader #retsu kaioh x reader #reader x retsu #yujiro hanma x reader #yujiro x reader #hanayama kaoru x reader #biscuit oliva x reader #doppo orochi x reader #motobe izou x reader #merry christmas! #reader insert #reader insert fanfic #this was written very quick and not really edited so sorry if it stinks lol #ILU have a great holiday #thanks for reading! #mothwingswritings

[sparrowsworkshop]

"Screened" by OneWingedSparrow

Main Tags: TFP, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, During Canon, Major Character Death (referenced), Megatron & Soundwave Summary: A tribute to Frank Welker for providing the iconic voices of Megatron and Soundwave—among many other characters across animation—over the years. Told from the perspectives of both TFP Megatron and TFP Soundwave, during and after the events of the episode "Crossfire." Part of the "Peace Through Tyranny Zine" hosted by @allsparkzines ! Please check out everyone's artwork and stories! They're amazing! Read on AO3; paired artwork here Reblogs are appreciated! ~ The bridge of the Nemesis revved with unchecked tension, like a jet engine that grumbled and screamed and refused to leave the ground despite the time for liftoff.

“The reason for our inability to locate Breakdown’s signal is all too clear...but how is it that you were unable to recover his remains?” Lord Megatron snapped.

Dreadwing avoided his gaze, fixating his attention on the floor instead.

An incoming message set the computer trilling with urgent beeps. Soundwave turned to open the notification.

“What is it?” Lord Megatron barked, just as the call connected.

A saccharine voice sent a teasing greeting echoing around the room. “Heard from Breakdown lately?”

Laserbeak twitched against Soundwave’s spark chamber. Silently, Soundwave looked to his lord.

“Trace the communication,” Megatron snarled. With practiced grace, Soundwave’s fingers flew over the keys. The onscreen cursor ricocheted around a virtual globe as frequencies were examined and swiftly eliminated, one after another.

“Megatron, truly,” Airachnid said through the speakers, as merrily as if she offered advice to an old friend, “you sent simple henchmen to terminate a high-ranking officer. I thought you reserved that honor for yourself.”

Soundwave’s fingers hovered in place.

Megatron stomped towards the dashboard, words aflame with vitriol. “Is that a challenge?”

“An invitation,” Airachnid corrected, mildly. “And, since Soundwave is, no doubt, tracing this signal, you know where to find me.”

Right then, the monitor flashed with the coordinates.

Megatron stared at the screen. Soundwave watched a thousand emotions smolder in his optics before he spoke with an air of finality.

“I’ll be back.”

“Allow me to accompany you,” Dreadwing proposed. “You already had your chance,” Megatron snapped. He stormed from the bridge.

Dreadwing hung his head, thoroughly chastised. Soundwave almost pitied the failure.

~

Cracks of lightning split the sky around Megatron as he flew—verily, the fury inside him come to life. As he glided into the cavern where Airachnid surely lurked, Megatron growled to himself. If you desire proper execution of a task, by the Antispark, you need do it yourself!

“I place too much faith in those who follow me,” he muttered. “The war has despoiled my troops of competence. I imagined my expectations lowered enough, and yet…!”

The mouth of the cave swallowed him. Megatron vanished into darkness.

~

Soundwave knew Lord Megatron was a fierce combatant, fully capable of handling his own. However, he also knew Airachnid. Airachnid was not your typical opponent. Even among Decepticons, she was diabolically cunning, darkly creative, and downright ruthless. Moreover, as an uncommon eight-legger, she wielded a fighting style that sharply disadvantaged Megatron’s. Whereas Megatron exuded might and force, Airachnid thrived in speed and guile. She was a trickster, an ambusher, and above all, a predator.

If Airachnid had the gall to consume Breakdown’s husk, Soundwave did not doubt her readiness to dismantle his lord as well. Airachnid was surely weaving trickery between her needling fingers, a net with which to snag Megatron in his anger. No matter his proven battle prowess, Lord Megatron would not be returning unscathed.

Against his spark, Laserbeak hummed in agreement.

Soundwave commanded the computer to sleep and drifted from his post.

~

When the Insecticon tackled him, Megatron had been thrown backwards.

Airachnid’s secret champion had slammed his neck at an awkward angle, setting it aching. Now, the Insecticon whinnied inches away from his face, mandibles waggling. Breathing heavily, Megatron seized all his strength, and thrust the creature far enough away to fire his fusion cannon.

Before he could shoot again, a web blast from Airachnid’s perch rendered his cannon useless. Utilizing the diversion, the Insecticon transformed into beetle mode, zipped forward, and tossed him into the air. A stab near the spark chamber left Megatron gasping. He hit the ground, showered by his own energon.

Instinct ignited as pain kicked in, accompanied by sheer adrenaline. When the Insecticon charged for another blow, Megatron timed its attack, and smacked the beast away with one fell swoop of his arm.

Airachnid hissed in displeasure. He cast a smirk towards her distant platform.

“You and your beast would do well to remember,” Megatron yelled, “I honed my skills in the Pits of Kaon!”

Furious as he was at Airachnid’s scheme, part of him thrilled in the unexpected matchup. Many of his memories of the Pits had been blocked out; but there was still much that he recalled. ~

Rather than stride the halls, Soundwave opened a ground bridge and teleported himself directly into his private quarters, while Laserbeak sequestered himself in the rafters outside to alert him to approaching vehicons.

Soundwave’s tentacles easily found the package, stacked in the corner among dozens of decoys. To the unsuspecting optic, the package appeared to be an ordinary Energon Cube. Courtesy of his visor, however, Soundwave could clearly identify the invisible symbols stamped all over the container, backlit by the artificial glow. A simple deception, engineered by Shockwave, meant for his sight alone.

He tapped the symbols in their proper order, unlocking the seal. The item inside snapped neatly into Laserbeak’s rest. The Minicon would fit right over it; no one would notice the extra mass on his frame.

At that moment, Laserbeak trilled on a frequency only Soundwave could hear. He tilted his head at the news.

So the failure does have some brass in his bearings.

~

“Rescue” was not a word Megatron regarded fondly; but, he decided he could live with an assisted tactical retreat.

“You disobeyed my orders in following me here,” Megatron growled.

He waited just long enough for worry to overtake Dreadwing; then, Megatron transformed his tone, almost sounding…jovial.

“You will make a fine first lieutenant,” he said through a wide, concealed grin.

~

Lord Megatron returned limping.

The average Decepticon would never have detected this; yet, Soundwave had spent enough time with him to identify when something was off. A miniscule change in his gait was all the proof Soundwave needed.

Megatron straightened his back as a group of Eradicons passed by, saluting him. As soon as they left, he grumbled and pulled a strand of web from his fusion cannon.

Knock Out welcomed Lord Megatron into the med bay. A few wayward drops of energon trailed behind him, at Soundwave’s feet.

A single tentacle unfurled, claws sweeping over the floor to wipe the energon away—out of sight.

At Knock Out’s beckoning, Lord Megatron sank onto the examination berth. Soundwave noticed how his knees quavered under him, but chose not to say anything.

~

Knock Out’s examination was prompt, as Megatron demanded. No Decepticon should ever know all his wounds or weaknesses...even his medic.

Once Knock Out was dismissed, Megatron narrowed his optics at Soundwave. “Did you send Dreadwing after me?”

“It was his own stupid idea!” Knock Out’s voice protested from Soundwave’s speakers. A favorite recording, from yet another occasion of Starscream’s troublemaking.

Megatron laughed, hoarsely. “So there is hope for Decepticon competency, yet.”

Yes, Soundwave thought, at last we have found someone faithful to your cause.

Towards his lord, he nodded, signaling Laserbeak to deploy.

Into Megatron’s open palm, a tentacle placed the item that Soundwave had guarded since their time in the Pits.

His lord’s knee brace. ~

#thanks for reading! #sparrow fics #screened #salt and light #megatron #soundwave #tfp megatron #tfp soundwave #during canon #canon compliant #transformers prime #tfp #transformers fanfic #maccadam

[destructivemaiden]

haunted house- a short comic by me

#thanks for reading! #reblogs are appreciated (-: #comic #comic artist #original comic

[kmbrlei]

They say this mountain is blessed. But now the land is dying and two young witches must journey to seal away the evil haunting their home. They say this mountain is cursed. Despite the rumors, an old wanderer visits the mountain, year after year, decade after decade. They say this mountain grants wishes…

This comic was written for the Power & Magic Queer Witches anthology vol. 2 in 2020.

#comics #power and magic #indie comics #sapphic #thanks for reading! #it's kind of old but also was 2020 really that long ago? #feels old tho