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[scrunkly-week]

⊗ clink i am going to go f**king crazy. THE WOMAN YOU ARE, CLINK. the encounter taking place at night where cloud's just trapped with visions of sephiroth ghost past is so simple, but so effective. aaalll of this happening after cloud already CHOSE to GET OVER HIS THING ON SEPHIROTH. i can empathize with that; i too have been haunted by gay moments in my history lately. (this is not in reference to frank dbd or rufus shinra, much to your dismay, clink, i'm sure.) dialogue is so authentic to what i've heard about these two characters and their mannerisms and demeanors. ohg... cloud randomly listening to the demons and the realization of the color scheme. all of this hits to my bare skull, shattering it to pieces.

Scrunkly Week day 7 : Spring

Honestly? Put this one off for as long as I could. But as it is scrunkly week, these two were bound to make an appearance at some point. sigh.

Prompt: A crown of flowers upon your head

Meeting Aerith was good. She was his friend. They got along well. So why was it that her garden summoned such upsetting visions to his mind?

It was dark out, had been for a few hours now, and he was unable to properly sleep in the little room that Aerith's mother had graciously agreed to let him stay in for the night. Yet, sleep wouldn't come, and he found himself here, in the middle of the garden.

He wasn't sure if his brain just hated him. Were the things he was seeing memories, dreams or nightmares? He couldn't figure it out. It killed him to not know.

A sigh escaped him in a whisp of fog, the chill air nipping at his exposed arms and face. The cold was an old friend, a welcomed reminder of the town that was once his home.

It wasn't long before another figure joined him in the field. An unwelcome one. A hated one.

Sephiroth loomed above him, head tilted up to look at the stars while Cloud himself remained staring at the ground. He couldn't bring himself to look at the man — the spectre that had haunted him since he died.

Sephiroth didn't have the same reservations. A hand grasped Cloud's chin, stronger than it was the last time they made contact with each other. He was grinning down at him now. That smile haunted Cloud's dreams.

"Does it make you think of me? The cold." Sephiroth's voice was quiet, making Cloud feel like they were the only people on the planet.

He hated it. He hated even more that he would've once killed to receive this attention from Sephiroth.

"Why would it?" He tried to keep his tone neutral despite the way his heart thudded painfully within his chest.

"Our last day together."

Anger flashed through him and he smacked the hand away from his chin. The effort was futile. Nobody was physically, truly there.

"Get away from me," Cloud snapped, his voice louder than he intended for it to be.

Sephiroth smirked, kneeling down in front of him. "There, there. Wouldn't want to wake the girl, would you? She'd ruin our time together."

Cloud would love for their 'time together' to be ruined. But Aerith had had a long day, and he didn't want to disturb her sleep.

Not wanting to give Sephiroth the satisfaction of him agreeing, he chose to remain silent.

"You never had this much trouble sleeping when we worked together before. Do you perhaps miss my presence?"

Cloud groaned, burying his face in his hands. Trying to ignore the small part of him that preened at the attention, a lingering feeling from when he was younger.

"No."

Despite his denial, Sephiroth's smile remained. Cloud wanted to smack it off his face. He knew the hit would just pass through him.

It was the longest conversation they'd had since Sephiroth began haunting him. Normally others would be around to break Cloud free. Here, he was trapped. Whether by his solitude or Sephiroth's piercing gaze, he wasn't sure.

The gaze of the dead man turned to the flowers around them, his gaze analytical. He drifted off to get a closer look, and Cloud took the added space granted to him to breathe again. He hadn't realised that he wasn't doing so properly with Sephiroth watching him. He stared at the ground, trying to calm himself down. It wasn't very effective, his heartbeat still faster than it should be.

After a few minutes he felt something land on his head. His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked up to find Sephiroth standing above him once more. He raised a hand to his head, further confused by the flowers he felt sitting there. He went to remove them, but Sephiroth's hand stopped him.

"Don't." And he found himself complying. His hand fell back down by his side, and this time he watched as Sephiroth stared at him. A smirk slowly grew across his face, and he tilted his head. "It suits you."

"What is it?"

"A symbol of what we could be if you stopped pushing me away."

That filled Cloud with a cold sense of dread. He knew a small amount about what Sephiroth wanted from him. It was nothing he wanted to be part of. What could've been placed on his head? He was fretting, trying to figure it out without directly removing the object.

Sephiroth picked up on this, disappearing out of his line of sight once more and shortly after returning with a similar object on his own hand. Cloud squinted at it, confused. There was no way Sephiroth had made something so harmless. It was almost… cute?

Cloud hit himself in the knee lightly to snap that train of thought immediately. Sephiroth was not cute. He was evil.

Still. Something about the image of the former war hero turned traitor with something as childish as a flower crown on his head stirred up feelings within Cloud that he'd rather ignore.

The air around them grew lighter as the sun began to rise, and Cloud could see as Sephiroth's form turned more ghostly. Less solid. He smirked down at Cloud one last time before he vanished with the receding darkness. All that remained of him was the flower crown, fallen to the ground now. Cloud reach out to pick it up, turning it over in his hands a few times.

The flowers on it were blue and a pale yellow. A thought tickled the back of his brain and he dropped the crown back onto the floor when he realised the colours were representative of himself — the blue flowers the shade his eyes were before the mako poisoning altered them, the yellow the shade of his hair.

He stood up, moving away from it in disgust. The slight breeze made the crown on his own head shift, and he tore it off his head and tossed it to the ground. It was silver and aquamarine.

He stomped down on the crown, crushing it into the dirt with more force than necessary to break them. Like he was trying to break them into nothing.

Trying to kill the ghost that haunted him.

[scrunkly-week]

☆ THIS LOOKS SO GOOD WHAT the colours look awesome and I ADORE the poses here wowza. The DETAILS in the outfits and the shading are PEAK and I love this so much. Also that trident thing looks sick as hell dude !! You killed it here

what if you wanted a ghost bf but he ghost dies in front of you

this is lowkey a Scrunkly Week Day 6 Submission, far after scrunkly week has ended bc i got inspired again. godbless

prompt(s): remember those we have lost

made two versions, for the two wolves inside of me. one for my clear cut design liker alpha, the other for my Shiney liker alpha. yes they are both alphas. i am alpha

[scrunkly-week]

⊗ we're glad to see you back! and with more gangle, no less! for it being your very first time drawing flowers, you did a great job. i love her slightly dazed expression as she sits criss cross applesauce beneath really nicely shaded clouds.

Day… *checks notes* Seven 0-o

Kinda died, sorry about that ;-;

I’m back with Gangle in tow! I don’t normally draw flowers, but had fun drawing them

If I have the time I’ll go back to the days I missed!

Wpaojwmala I love Gangle so much I just wanna hug her till she pops into confetti <3

[scrunkly-week]

☆ HE LOOKS SO GRUMPY AIFNEKJF I love both this and him so much !! As always, your art is amazing <3 thank you for sharing all your wonderful creations with us this week, it's been a blast

Scrunkly Week! Day 7

Spring; flower crown

He was rambling and they put a flower crown on him to shut him up

I really wanted to do more for this last day, but the tiredness won so you get a lazy doodle

@scrunkly-week :DDDD

[scrunkly-week]

⊗ oh, woah, venom with his hair totally covering his face. that rules. this color scheme also f**ks severely, and i dig every bit of it. those absolute echoes of flowers. ugh, they're everything to me, i love this so so much. ten out of ten on all fronts!

last minute @scrunkly-week entry from the spring prompts list: crown of flowers on the head

[scrunkly-week]

A Dance of Blooming Roses

He pulled into the driveway. Parked the car. Slumped onto the wheel. Sighed to an obnoxious extent. He despised the sound cascading from his lips. The vice-like grip in his chest unrelenting, an accumulation of toxins from throughout the day.

Work sucked. The monotonous nine-to-five, the droll meetings, insufferable co-workers, the dreaded small talk, the not-nearly-long-enough lunch breaks... The valueless, devoid feeling he felt floating about the office; a worker bee for the hive, without a face.

Conformity was a silent assailant.

But it paid the bills. It ensured a life comfortable enough in an ever-changing society. A tiny air pocket in a dense mould.

He loved his air pocket. His breathing space. Not so much in his car, but in his home.

His home.

Knowing he'd attained one, filled him to the brim with an inexplicable ease. Not only was he so lucky to own a home in this day and age, but he had people to reside in it with him. His home. His family.

People. Plural. Family, collective. Wrapping his head around that was a work in progress.

He'd had family before. The Robotniks who raised him, Rouge and Omega through his pivotal stages, and Doom... He wouldn't dare to add him onto that list, even in the years he spent under his tutelage? Employ? Tyrannical fist.

Most of those, he had no choice in. His DNA was half monster. His upbringing, a controlled, scientific test. Rouge and her vengeful robo-vac were serendipitous, a bond developed naturally over years of dutiful respect and blurred affections.

Those were all so different to his situation now.

It was all him. He decided to join Rouge on a televised romantic conquest. He decided to get to know the girl who ignited a curiosity in his conscious mind. He decided what he wanted in a partner, who he wanted that to be and what would be best for the both of them moving forward.

He chose 'yes' to love. He chose 'yes' when she asked for permanence, and she did the same when he returned the gesture. That time on one knee. He chose to form a life plan and allowed her to shuffle the deck a little as they went.

The life he had carved in the past few years was a testament to freedom. A celebration of agency. He could choose his own path, and come what may.

His biggest choice so far — he and Amy’s biggest choice so far — was not lifelong partnership, but to expand their connection wider than themselves.

He was coming home to two beautiful girls. One he hadn't even seen outside of scans yet. Two of the three most important women he adored with every fibre of his being. The third, he hoped, was rejoicing in spirit. Though that conviction was shaky.

Their choice was a leap and a bound ahead of anything most people were prepared for at this stage in a partnership, but Shadow and Amy weren't 'most people'. He didn't need to be told twice. They moved in unison with a hard and fast punch. It knocked everyone square in the nose. Once at their engagement, twice at the expecting arrival of a baby. They were looked back at with teary eyes or a cemented, stunned expression.

Their lifestyle paired with being a reality TV show success story had many reacting, commenting, sharing, or merely staring funny. The bleats of sheep bored him. Their sound, white noise. Engaging in it had never been his gig and this especially made him repulsed to start.

They were living how they wanted. Nothing else mattered. It was easy to ignore the flock when he had the privilege of seeing Amy's lips curve into the most ethereal smile daily.

He was so lucky. Lucky to the point where he woke every morning and occasionally second guessed his perception of reality. He had an incredible wife, a force of nature who was willing to face every day with him. Having a child on the way was a huge added bonus. A wonderful set of miracles.

Miracles and fortune weren't things Shadow believed in, or didn't think he believed in. Then Amy came along, crept into the depths of his psyche and unlocked a door he didn't know he had built in. Every so often he'd slip up, thinking — or worse, saying — these abstract concepts had a part to play in the coil his mortality was strung upon. Thankfully Amy herself had never detected them. If she had, he could guarantee she wouldn't let him hear the end of it.

Same goes if he continued to dwell in his car any longer. He could bet she heard him pull in by the sound of his tyres squealing from the sharp turn he couldn't stop himself from doing. It was beginning to blacken the concrete. She was trying to advise him out of the reflex and he would have remembered the warning, were it not for the toll the work day took.

And she knew, better than anyone, when he got too in his head. It was like a sixth sense. There it was again!

He promised her, and himself, to be better. That was the main thing.

Steadying himself, he exited his vehicle, fumbled with his keys at the door and officially made his arrival known.

"Hello?" he called out into the empty air, kicking off his shoes and gliding along the hardwood flooring without a destination.

"Cheeky?" Amy replied, perking up from her spot on the couch, scrambling to greet him, one of her sundresses hanging off her fingers. A smile spread across his face like an infection. Few could evoke a reaction so true from him. Partly because she used a personal pet name, partly because her very disposition liberated him. Nothing was too weird, too intense, too stupid to Amy. He loved that about her. They were two weird, intense, stupid people in a wild world.

"Hey." She threw her arms around him, giving him a peck. Holding her was healing. Whatever it was, however she did it — he was so grateful.

"How was work?" His eyes rolled, features contorting. She read it perfectly. "That bad?"

"Just the usual." 'The usual' had been building up for a while. It wasn't considerably terrible, it was... A lot of the same. Joyless, robotic. So similar to work under his father. It represented itself as an anvil weighing him down. A section of rotting flesh he needed to slice off. He wanted to leave it all behind. It wasn't living. Words crawled up his throat, threatening honesty. Not now. Amy didn't need his existential spiralling, she needed financial stability. He could suffer through a few more years of desk-job purgatory. Maybe.

Hopefully.

"The baby been causing you any trouble today?" A genuine concern doubled as a redirection from what was truly on his mind. Amy’s cheeks puffed as she grinned, showing off those adorable dimples he loved.

"Nope! She's been pretty good today. We went to visit the shop to see how the new part-timer was settling in and Uncle made a fuss over me showing up, again, even though it's my day off and I can do what I want. Anyway, I bought lunch, then we went home and I caught the cleaning bug, so I rearranged some things here and there and did a massive pile of laundry, but that's about it. Thought about making dinner early, but I wanted to wait and see what you felt like."

"It's my day to cook, anyway, Amy." He raised a brow, knowing he'd caught her out.

Day off or not, Amy had a habit of overfilling her plate with unnecessary burdens. Which is why they rotated things like cooking. To give her a break.

He had to give her credit, though. Amy was a powerhouse through and through. She had the determination to tackle anything in any weather. Her tenacity was something he always admired. Much like him, she'd stop at nothing to get the job done. She was a fiery spirit and her glow brightened the stars around her.

But that brightness impaired her vision from time to time. Shadow, being only him, did what he did best. Shadow. Balance. Made reality checks when necessary, to keep her spark far from its snuffing point.

"I know." Her head bowed. "I'll finish up with this stuff and I promise I won't do any more." The garment dangled between her fingers was promptly folded as an example to him.

"Perfect." Another peck. "That's all I could ask for." He drifted to the couch to find a casual shirt to chuck on, replacing his work shirt with that and his work pants with nothing. No expectations at home, no pants. "You're all I could ask for. More, actually," he added.

"Stop! You're making me blush." She giggled with an undertone that identified and appreciated his sincerity. Amy always knew how to joke with him in a way that didn't undermine his seriousness. Amy knew how to do a lot of things around Shadow and he still couldn't piece together how she managed to do it. She was flawless.

"Good. It's cute when you get all pink like that." He leaned over the back of the couch where she returned to sitting, meeting her eye. She turned away, trying to conceal her ruddy complexion. Not a lie fell from his lips. The heaviness in his chest lifted whenever she reacted so bashfully to his flirting. It always reminded him of their fateful encounter on the island. That characteristic of hers hadn't changed since then.

"Nooo!"

"It is," he insisted. "Makes me wanna kiss your face all over." A small peek of her beautiful, beaming smile could be seen, despite her avoiding his eye line. When she composed herself, she smirked at him, bargaining,

"I'll let you, if you pick those up off the floor." She gestured to the skin he'd shed. He was already picking them up seconds before accepting.

"You have yourself a deal." Slinging his dead weight over the arm of the couch, he approached her, eager for his reward. Amy’s hands reached up, grasping at the air, requesting to be pulled up. He was shocked with flashes of their near future, of their baby, who one day may communicate to him how she was right now. A sweet, intelligent, wordless need for his support, his love. He swore he'd never hesitate to give it were he asked, whether it be Amy now, or the baby further down the line.

He latched on, pulling her to her feet so they could weave into an embrace, joining in soft, repetitive kisses. A repetition undying in its enthralling nature.

One, two, three — he lost count after four. The warm sensation of her energy surging through his cells. Security. Unabridged, unabated adoration. An honest love defined by lack of inhibition. The kind of energy that could cure any ailment.

"We haven't spent time like this in forever," he said, swaying her gently side to side. She peered up at him, confused.

"Like what?"

"You know. Being present." Her palms crawled up his spine, pulling them as close as she could. A perfect huddle. Him, her, and the little one. A sigh rang out, Amy’s. The glow in her expression faded.

"It's all this baby stuff, huh?" The baby wasn't to blame. Other responsibilities were just as — if not more — constricting. Strange as it was, he had no reservations about being an expecting parent. He was more than ready. Almost thirty laps around the sun made him unshakeable. "Scared parenthood is gonna ruin our love life, Shadow?" Her voice wavered as she asked, exposing more of her own anxieties than taking note of his.

Amy couldn't possibly believe what she was saying, surely. No, she did. It was proving his point. They hadn't been present enough. Existing absent of goal. Being together. He hadn't the time to tell her they were and were going to be all right. To hear she had convinced herself the best decision of their entire lives could be their relationship's detriment... His heart dropped.

He should have caught it before then. He should've stepped out of his head earlier to stop it. It was selfish to think he was the only worrier among them. Foolish.

"No way." He stood his ground, mustering the words and courage to reassure her. He angled her head up with his hands cupped around her cheeks, so she could lock eyes with him and see the meaning behind everything he spoke. "This baby might change us, yeah, but we got something special. Listen. You, Amy, are going to be an incredible mother. And I'm gonna do the best I can for you and the baby. And we—" He gestured to them both— "are going to survive. I promise you. I will always make time for you, if you make time for me in return. If you're ever worried, come to me. I'll do what I can to remedy that. We're gonna do fine. No, we're going to thrive. There's nothing that makes me think otherwise. If I didn't think we could handle it, she wouldn't be here."

His touch drifted to the bump of her belly. Once, change terrified Shadow. The unknown, too daunting to venture into. Alas, change escapes no one, and he learned to accept the inevitable. To adapt, to flex to life's whirlwind shape. In turn, life granted him calm. Peace, in floating down the stream. No battle against the current needed to take place. Something so life-altering as having a child felt... nothing like he was told it would be.

Of course, his daughter had yet to be born and life with a newborn would be a whole new can of worms, but for now, it was a cruise. For him, at least. Comprehending how Amy must feel bearing another human being was out of reach slightly. An experience he'd never know.

Stress and panic simply hadn't graced him. He was grounded, resolved, and prepared for anything.

Amy, realising she plucked the wrong chord, corrected, "Then what's really on your mind?" Her fingers laced with his. She guided him across her stomach lovingly.

In a beat, he was struck with connection. An intrinsic link. He could feel her greet him somehow. She'd know her father before even drawing her first breath. Insane to think. Natural to believe.

She had no name. He hadn't seen her face. She achieved nothing but conceive and cultivate. But he loved her. He loved her now, pure as she was. He'd love her the day she arrives. And he'd love her, however the world ends up shaping her. She couldn't scare him. Not yet.

What was he worried about, again? Oh.

"I'll— ugh." Where was he to begin? 'Amy, I want off this capitalist roller coaster' ? It didn't seem right to say. His wishes could be radicalised. His contrarian nature obscured. Not to mention, the notion itself was selfish.

But Amy loved her job. The bakery was her passion. It made her happy. She got to help people, put smiles on faces. She loved baking, being in the kitchen. Would it occur to her that he felt a gut-wrenching dread, having to march off to a corporate nightmare every morning, in fear that it could quite possibly be his meaningless trajectory for his entire existence? He doubted it.

He envied Amy and her sense of fulfilment. He used to have it, back when he had time and money to spare for charities. The ink on his skin was to fundraise for those in need. It's how he learned to cook a killer soup. It was barely enough. He wanted to see what more he could do.

Do away with regenerative bodily compounds was ideally one way to go. He knew his body was designed to be durable and theoretically restorative for the compromised. A hypothesis at best, to his knowledge. He wanted to test it. If he could aid humanity — instil hope — like Maria said he was born to do, then why hadn't he started?

The selfish obligation of survival instigated by an inundated money trap. Infuriating. Unfair. Unfair on him. Unfair on all those people who could benefit from his help. How could he slither between the gaps of expectation and find the freedom to pursue his purpose?

It left him clueless. Maybe it was easier said than done. Maybe it was easier done than thought. His skull throbbed. What a paradox.

"Other stuff," was about as specific as he could get to his convoluted thoughts. "I'll tell you at dinner. You may not like it, though."

"Hey." She adopted a stern tone, one unfailing in its electrifying effect upon him. "If I can talk to you about my worries, then you should talk to me. It goes both ways, buster. Don't spare my feelings. You know I like it when you talk about this stuff." True. She swung off his emotional exposures like a monkey. There was something in his vulnerability that nourished her. She didn't leech off his pain, she sucked the poison from the wound and delighted in seeing him recover. Her listening ear was all he needed to purge the storm in his mind.

She might not like it, but it was better for him to lighten the load sooner rather than later. He can't say he didn't warn her though.

"All right, all right. I know. I'll tell you. Later."

She conceded. "Okay." Her light returned. "Thanks. For your pep talk. You somehow always know exactly what to say."

"You know that's not true." It wasn't. He didn't. A fuzzy memory popped into his head. A prime example. The morning after their extraordinary hideaway experience, he said the shoddiest thing as a reassurance to Amy's insecurity surrounding her natural strength. Something about having his head grotesquely caved in and genuinely feeling unperturbed by it. In retrospect, terrible thing to say. Really made him look like a masochist. Probably made Amy more afraid of her potential. But she married him anyway, so maybe he wasn't completely messing everything up. Or maybe all it proved was they were both crazy. Shadow cared not for the true answer.

"No, it is! Sometimes it comes out a little wrong, that's all. I like to think it's part of your charm." An opinion he was sure would go flaccid when he confessed his troubles. Charm or vice, his wording was unreliable at conveying what he wanted to. One moment he could be direct, comprehended, charismatic, even. The next he could be choking on a dictionary, clawing at his throat for a sufficient string of words to verbalise less than half of what he was feeling.

Come what may. A phrase iron cast in his brain.

He'd do it. After savouring the lingering sweetness. The meal they'd yet to have. The settling air pre-disaster.

"Charm, huh?" The hand that held his was clasped tighter, lifted to twirl Amy around a full rotation. A flourished move he absorbed from dancing many years ago.

"Yeah. You're such a romantic," she giggled, floating to and fro on their feet in the prelude to a dance that followed its own rhythm.

"You made me one. Must've brainwashed me. Your lovey-dovey mentality is all I know. It's sickening." For someone so genuine and bubbly, Amy picked up on his sarcasm quicker than he could snap his fingers. More surprising was when she encouraged it.

"Oh no, how sad," she drawled, smiling ridiculously at him, "I have a husband who loves me unconditionally. Whatever will I do?"

"Wanna put some music on and find out?"

"Ooh! Who made you so spontaneous?"

"Beats me." She let him go to retrieve her phone from the coffee table. "Put on something soft, slow. Let us have this dance."

"Aww, and here I was, thinking you were gonna make love to me."

"This is better, is it not?"

"Yeah." He was glad she agreed. "Maybe for grandpas like you!" Never mind.

If he agreed to her... The baby certainly wouldn't be their downfall. It'd be him, no doubt. She'd see the fog in his eyes as he spaced out, becoming more machine than man, too absorbed in detangling his values and duties. He didn't want to be a mindless drone.

His love with Amy was whole, focused. To do anything now would tear their bond of synchronicity. It would all come spilling from his mouth at the wrong time. It would ruin everything.

"You want this or not?" He did. He needed this distraction. His knuckles rested on his hip, dishing Amy an unimpressed glare. She pursed her lips sheepishly, cranking her phone audio to full volume and rejoining in his arms.

"Okay, okay. Take the lead, kind sir."

And take the lead he did. He placed their arms exactly where they should be and slowly followed the song's timing. Typical of Amy to pick a sappy love song. But it was the perfect choice. Far better than the songs he played on his trip to work that morning. They were too profound. Too... him.

This was her. And it was where his attention rightfully should be.

Their dance was best described as 'nothing special'. Movements minimal, its aim set on holding one another close, in opposition to making an awe-inspiring piece of artistic expression. Perfectly imperfect, an oxymoron Shadow had grown fond of. It was reality.

A song or two passed and Shadow was granted those invaluable minutes to mentally capture the moment he was in.

The cool floor beneath his socked toes. The air, refreshing as they disturbed it. His body reacting involuntarily to the music. The texture of Amy’s blouse on his fingertips. The feeling of her thumb stroking soothing lines into his skin. Her faint, sweet perfume permeating his senses. Her round face and its rosy hue. Her revitalising green eyes and the relaxed brows above them. Her button nose. The acne speckled across her visage like stars. Her glossy lips that had imprinted on him thousands of times past.

He felt everything and nothing all at once. Clear of mind. Every bit in the here and now. He lamented just how well he knew himself. An apt diversion, some temporary, shallow mindfulness and he no longer felt the urge to strip himself down to the bone. He was in the right place, with the right person; settled in himself. All he needed before he'd topple the precariously balanced tower of their lives.

Amy made comments every so often, leading into brief conversations. 'You should grow a beard'. 'I hope the baby has your eyes'. 'We have another episode of thing tonight'.

"What are we having for dinner?" she finally asked, nose nestled into Shadow's chest.

"Hmm. Don't really feel like cooking tonight. We could get take out? Was thinking maybe Thai. Or pizza."

"Ooh, pizza. No, wait! I'm kinda craving butter chicken."

"All right, done. Butter chicken for two."

"For three, you mean." Her correction was flat, clipped. One, two— what? Oh, the baby. She meant the baby.

"Yeah. Yeah, for three." He laughed it off but kicked himself for forgetting. "It's still so surreal to me."

"Better get used to it. Got months left of this stuff." He would. He was sure of it. Those coming months, their life ahead with a child — he was excited for their future. Though he put on a good poker face. His excitement was locked down.

Placing a food order on his phone, he thoughtlessly wondered aloud,

"You think after this one we'll want another?"

"Woah, and you tell me not to get too ahead of myself! Shadow, don't you think it's better we wait and see what we're in for first?"

"No, I know, I know. Just asking."

"Well... Maybe. I'd hate for her to be an only child."

"Okay." She was thinking with his rational mind.

It was going to be worse than he feared.

Laundry moved and food delivered, Shadow and Amy dined on the couch, a comfortable silence between them as they ate. The TV echoed with the tinny sound of actors' voices.

Amy had finished long before Shadow did and as he shovelled the last piece of sauce-soaked naan bread into his mouth, she was already eyeing him expectantly. Rare was it for her to forget a promise. Damn it.

He had spent his meal overthinking. He vowed to tell her, then cowed himself out of telling her and now had to drag himself in by the ear to tell her again. It was unavoidable.

"Sooo, what were you gonna tell me?" His airways tightened a few notches in the attempt to save him from his gruesome fate. If he fessed up, he'd pay for his treachery. "Shadow?"

He reined himself in. Nope. Nope. Her chipper speech was lulling him into a false sense of security. It was compelling him to surrender. He had to do this. It was going to come out eventually.

"I want to leave my job, Amy," he blurted, finding himself unable to hold her eye as he did so. The visuals on the TV distorted in front of him. "I can't do it anymore." Daring to stray beyond his messy view of the screen, he stole a trepidatious glance in Amy’s direction. Her expression spoke volumes.

His prediction was accurate. She was furious. Upset. Distraught.

The gall he had to suggest something so unreasonable. What about them? The baby? 'Shadow, you self-centred— You can't accommodate for anyone.'

He may have been exaggerating the inferred thoughts she left unspoken, but he was beginning to feel like it would have been easier to lie. Spare her feelings — the very thing she told him not to do. Suffering in silence used to be old faithful. He should've dug it back out for a circumstance such as this.

She responded, "What? Why?" He understood her reaction. He accounted for it. It was a stressor uncalled for, trivial in comparison to the bigger picture. Still, her questioning stung.

After a ragged skirmish with his anxiety, he dribbled his excuse — his reasoning — to Amy, doing his best to check every box on his list of career grievances. She was mad. Of course she was. He wasn't about to discredit her for it. A flurry of frustrations left her mouth and he did nothing but nod along, agreeing with every jibe she threw at him.

Once her anger dissipated, nothing remained but an air of solemn disappointment. She apologised for her outburst, but was honest in saying she didn't know why he was itching to leave at the most inappropriate time. She proceeded to negotiate with him.

Where would he work if he did leave his current job? He claimed uncertainty.

He snuck in an offer of becoming a stay-at-home parent. Amy replied, displeased. It wasn't ideal for him to do so. Not right now. A pin hung it on their imaginary corkboard.

Could he soldier on a while longer? Shadow's lungs shrivelled. He rasped a confirmation. Undesirable, but a sacrifice he'd have to make for the sake of their future. He tried to push aside the dark, contradictory thought screaming he was wasting his life away. But he'd been battered and bruised far worse than this. He'd persist.

For them, he'd persist. Then maybe one day... 

One day he'd be able to make a real difference, chasing his purpose.

Submitted by the stunningly talented Bee!

———

☆ this took me on a roller-coaster ride of the greatest sort, wow. Your talent with writing always astounds me, Bee. You're truly an incredible author, and this was delightful to read <3 ESPECIALLY SINCE IT FEATURES MY FAVES !! I love Shadow and Amy so much, what a way to end this week ! They're the best and the sweetest and I love how they're so in sync but they both admit their own faults and try to work on them for each other and how they know each other so well yet still let their anxieties morph their perception of the other's mood and I just !!! Everything about this is so well written and I loved it 💕💕

[scrunkly-week]

⊗ SHES SO CUTE. flower girl i love youuhuu (/ref). the shading on your lineless work is so nice, im rockin with the minimal use of lines for the nose, jaw, etc. and the shading on her hair specifically. no notes, she's beautiful.

This is my @scrunkly-week day 7 art todays theme is spring and the prompt I chose e A CROWN OF FLOWERS UPON THE HEAD so I drew jack o with a flower crown

[scrunkly-week]

☆ THE ENDING TO THIS IS SO SUSPENSEFUL OH MY GOSH ! I love how intriguing this was to read, and I am wishing the best for Allstar and his friends! And congrats to them on their graduation <3

Scrunkly Week: Day 7

A picnic in dry space was the perfect way for Allstar and his friends to celebrate their graduation. He didn't know the area very well, but his friends sure did; they went there once before to look for treasure. Turns out though, the 'golden castle' on the map was just a hamburger joint. Such a place had no value to the snorks; they prefer kelpburgers. Still, the forest leading up to that area was nice, and they had a lovely spot right by the river. While they enjoyed the sights and the treats they brought, they began to discuss their plans for the future. Allstar had the starbright idea of following in his uncle's footsteps. Who knows what discoveries he could find or inventions he could create? Only time will tell...

[scrunkly-week]

⊗ what a great way to start a story. things just started happening and already someone is tied to so many cords and on life support and about to kill arty if they ever dare cheer again. there being two parts to this is so cool, and the second part being like journal entries/a recollection from charcoal's point of view about the time they spent there. awesome. very relatable moment when your body's so fucked it can barely do what you want it to. that's juicy. that's nice. everything about this is nice. HELL YEAH FOR CHARCOAL! 💥

Scrunkly Week Day 6 : Winter Blizzard

Prompt: remember those we've lost

This is about my Final Space OC, Meowcha/Charcoal. While it isn't directly about loss or mourning, it does focus on the crew of raiders that she was rescued by and worked alongside for several years before they died. So! Themes of loss, ehe

•°•

A thudding noise travelled through the floor of the ship, waking Arty from their sleep. They had been on edge since their last raid, having found an injured Ventrexian left in the wreckage of a battle field.

They threw on a lab coat over the top of their sleep clothes — which had slowly morphed into just a random shirt and some sweatpants over time – and made their way out of their room and to the medicine bay.

They found the Ventrexian awake, her one uncovered eye wide and panicked. Her ears bent back as they entered the room, and a low growling sound resonated from the back of her throat.

She opened her mouth to speak but instead winced, lifting a hand in an attempt to feel her face but halting as she realised her right arm was connected to bunch of cords, while her left arm was completely obscured by bandages.

"Try not to move too much, you're very injured," Arty commented, moving to her bedside to offer her some water from a bottle that they held up to her mouth. She hesitated for only a moment before accepting it.

"Where am I?" She coughed a few times after speaking, her throat dry and voice cracking from disuse.

"You're on our ship, we found you in the aftermath of a battle, bleeding out under a broken stone wall. We managed to get you here without you dying. Yay!" Their little cheer is meant to encourage her, but they see her pupils shrink in response and lower their voice. "I'm sorry... you've been through a lot. Does it hurt?"

"Kind of. Mostly my neck."

Arty nodded. "That makes sense. I'll give you some painkillers, and hopefully they'll help you get back to sleep."

"I need to get back to my squadron. They'll be looking for me."

Arty stopped what they were doing, the liquid painkillers held in their hand. They stared at her, at the unwavering look of responsibility on the face of the heavily injured Ventrexian in front of them.

And they didn't have the heart to tell her the truth.

"We'll get you back to them as soon as you've recovered." The lie slips from them easily, years of evading the law making it feel like second nature for them.

She nodded as they began injecting the painkiller into her, eyes slowly blinking as she begins falling back asleep. "Soon?"

"...soon."

She didn't notice their hesitation, already drifting off to sleep.

Arty sighed, placing the syringe down as they stared at her. Half her body had been torn to shreds, yet she wanted to rejoin the fight.

They exited the room, pulling up the report that Rena had sent them only hours before.

A photo of their patient, included on a list of the Ventrexian soldiers lost in battle in the past week.

It revealed her name, which was helpful considering how her identifying soldier tags had been destroyed in the blast that injured her. Arty did not like having to pick all of the shards of it out of Meowcha's skin. Dealing with the armour fragments was hard enough.

They sighed, closing the report and shaking their head. They knew their lie would fall apart as soon as their patient was lucid enough to move around on her own. The first thing she'd do would be to look for information about her squadron if her question from earlier was any indication.

Rena already had a plan in mind for her. They'd look after her while she recovered, and slowly teach her their raiding skills when she's well enough to learn. They'd help her find her squad once she proved that she was able to hold her own in battle once more.

They just had to hope that she'd cooperate with that plan.

•°•

Meowcha groaned as she opened her eyes, slowly climbing out of the bed that Rena had assigned to her when her initial stay in the medbay came to an end. She was still adjusting to having an entire room to herself – she was used to bunks crammed into rooms shared with a minimum of five squadmates. The ongoing war meant that soldiers weren't granted the luxury of personal private spaces.

She was also trying to adjust to the limited hearing in her left ear that she had now. Arty had assured her that it would improve as time passed – they believed her eardrums were just weakened by the trauma of the blast, both in volume and impact – but there was no guarantee that she'd ever fully recover her hearing in it.

Life had been... tough, since the raiders found her. She was glad that they had. She had accepted the fact that she would've died if they hadn't found her and chosen to help her. She'd always be grateful to them for that.

But each day spent with them, learning their ways and getting more comfortable around them, made her feel some sort of shame deep inside her chest. It felt wrong to not be with her squadmates. It felt worse to not be fighting the Tryvuulians like she had been for years. But she knew that she'd be no use in a battle right now.

Staring at the fresh scars forming on the left side of her body reminded her of that. She could barely move without the pain from them making her wince. It was obvious to all of them that she'd be useless in battle.

But Rena tried to keep her entertained, doing her best to teach her everything possible while she wasn't field ready. Even Lear had tried teaching her how his job worked, though she didn't understand that much. She was never good with mechanical stuff like he was.

Meowcha tried to go through the very basic training exercises that she did when she had first joined the Ventrexian army, in order to try keeping her strength up, but the pain quickly grew too overwhelming for her to continue.

It was a difficult realisation for her to come to. Knowing that her body had become so weak and sore after the blast that she could do even the most basic exercises without collapsing affected her badly. She figured that was why the others were trying so hard to keep her occupied, to prevent her from falling into a depressive spiral.

She appreciated it. Even if they did get a bit overbearing with it sometimes.

Her train of thought was broken by a knock on the door, followed shortly after by Arty popping their head into the room. "Good morning, Charcoal!"

She was still adjusting to the new nickname that they'd all given her. It was strange, but she didn't hate it.

"Morning," she replied. "What's the plan for today?"

"We're approaching an old junkyard that's been abandoned for ages." Arty grinned, seeming pleased about something. "You ready for your first raid?"

[scrunkly-week]

☆ WAA OH MY GOSH THIS ENTIRE PIECE !! IT IS SO ADORABLE AND HAPPY AND SUNNY AND I'M OBSESSED WITH IT !! your writing is genuinely stunning and I am overjoyed that we got an entire week of it! I am so deeply invested in Uppercut now you have no idea. On behalf of both of us, we were more than happy to enable your selfship! And I know that I'll continue to do so even outside of this week <3

song of the tulips.

DAY 7 YAYYYYYYYY we going out with a bang here people. this is probably the longest one ive written for this event

today, i went with a crown of flowers upon the head + picnicking among nature’s beauty + a dance of blooming roses ! okay that last one is kinda untrue bc i wrote about tulips instead bc apparently theres a tulip garden in san fran and it's amazing bc tulips are my fave flowers. crazy

this is actually a sequel to my day 2 entry ! you dont have to read that one to get this one but you'll get the references i put here if you do!! also a little disclaimer this one is kinda suggestive. nothing too wild, just a joke and a subtle nudge but yeah. if i could write smut i wouldve done it for these two believe me (not for this week/event but in general)

enjoy what may be my last uppercut fic for a while. thank you scrunkly week for enabling me and my selfship these past few days, you have NO idea how much this means to me 🥺

Queen Wilhelmina Garden is fairly far from where they reside in Haight Street, especially if they are to ride there on Joe’s bike. Luckily for the couple, Joe has a rare moment of pure genius (yet a common moment of money spending for Paper Cut).

A peaceful smile creeps onto Paper Cut’s face, relieved that his lover took his advice to heart. It’s not uncommon since Joe sort of sees Paper Cut as the all-knowing doctor but it does well to remind himself that the biker is as stubborn as Paper Cut himself.

“Wow, you actually bought a car this time around.”

And beautiful it is. Paper Cut does notice something about it though.

“Yeah! Look at her – beautiful, ain’t she?”

“Considering it’s the exact same model as the car you rented that weekend in summer, I’m guessing you got emotionally attached to that car.”

Joe lets out an awkward laugh then falls silent, and so does his smile.

“...We don’t talk about that car.”

Right on the money, Paper Cut thinks. He’ll humor his boyfriend.

“Anyway, shall we get going then?”

A smile that can rival the sunshine instantly makes its way to Joe’s lips.

“Last one to get in the car is a rotten egg!”

“And soooooo Sally can wait…”

“She knows it’s too lateeeee as we’re waaalkin’ on by~”

It’s full-on karaoke mode in that freshly-bought car. Though Paper Cut always insists he won’t sing along (“I’m not as good as you.” “It’s not about being good, babe, it’s about having fun!”), a part of him subconsciously makes him belt out to radio hits either way.

“Man, I love music.”

Paper Cut’s confession prompts Joe to let out a hearty laugh. The freedom in Paper Cut’s singing voice is already proof of that fact but it’s nice to hear it from the man himself. Then Joe has a flashbulb moment.

“I oughta take you out to the disco sometimes.”

“Oh God, no thank you. Too many sweaty people dancing in one small, dark room sounds like a nightmare.”

Joe often attempts to drag Paper Cut into social situations knowing he won’t ever do it himself. As introverted as he is, he’s still a social creature as far as Paper Cut’s concerned.

Joe had expected this response. The reasoning is just a bonus. But his spirit is not broken so easily (which is merely a delicate way of saying he’s stubborn).

“When you put it that way, it sounds like one! Don’t worry baby boy, I’ll make sure you’ll have a good time.”

Paper Cut falls into red, bashful silence at the phrase “baby boy”, cursing himself for being so weak to pet names as such, but especially that one. Joe only smirks, knowing his victory is sealed. After a minute, Paper Cut sighs.

“Okay, but still, I don’t dance.”

Well, now he’s just straight up lying, Joe thinks.

“You did yesterday. I saw you.”

Joe genuinely thinks this is a good argument – it would be if it weren’t for the fact that Paper Cut was not made aware of this fact.

“It is very not nice to peep on people!”

Paper Cut gives Joe’s shoulder a light hit, the blush never leaving his face. Joe manages to scratch the back of his head in shame with one hand.

“Yeah okay, but you looked like you were having a good time!”

“Keep your hand on the steering wheel, dammit!”

The two keep on bantering for the rest of the journey, the radio karaoke forgotten entirely.

They wouldn't say the idea of having a picnic here is anything original but they definitely expected less picnic blankets strewn about. But it's a pleasant sight – friends, couples, families, even individuals are out here surrounding themselves with nature's beauty with sandwiches in hand.

Thankfully, despite the amount of people, the couple still manages to find a spot for just the two of them, a little ways away from the rest of everyone else just in case Paper Cut gets too anxious (and in case Joe wants to initiate some “socially unacceptable” PDA – the two tries not to lament on the fate on couples like them too much).

They start unpacking their lunches – fried rice and fruit juices courtesy of Paper Cut, mineral water and (of course) sandwiches courtesy of Joe.

“Man, you’re out here serving us food like we’re kings meanwhile I just brought us plain-ass water and peanut butter jelly sandwiches like we’re kindergarten kids.”

The exaggeration pulls out a laugh from Paper Cut.

“C’mon, it’s not that serious. As long as it doesn’t kill me, I’ll put it in my mouth. And no, that’s not your cue to joke about you-know-what.”

A pout makes its appearance which Paper Cut ignores in grace, continuing to set up their little picnic spot with a little hum of a radio hit on his lips. With gentle sunlight and the scent of newly-bloomed tulips embracing the couple, Paper Cut feels like he’s a budding plant himself.

They start digging into their food; Joe sees this as a prime opportunity to gossip about the going-ons of their neighbors and the neighborhood kids while Paper Cut relishes in people-watching from their place.

At some point, Joe, being the kinaesthete that he is, gets up to walk around the garden but not without a quick heads-up to Paper Cut. Paper Cut, on the other hand, takes this as his cue to dominate the picnic blanket and lie down as if he’s making a snow angel (a picnic blanket angel, maybe). He soaks up the sun while he can, before he eventually retreats into his “man cave” as some locals have described his residence.

He tries to gain some inspiration from the springing of mother nature that surrounds him. Grass greener than the other side, the rows and rows of tulips in different hues reminiscent of a Holland rainbow, laughter tickling his sensitive ears, and skies as blue as his lover’s gentle eyes. Paper Cut never thought it was possible to feel this alive. Should this even be a bandage? It is an emotion so heavenly that it may transcend corporealness.

“Enjoying yourself, arent’cha?”

All things come to an end, yes, but beautiful things can begin right after. Joe snaps his boyfriend out of his trance with his teasing voice and the beautiful skies he has for eyes. In addition, he comes bearing gifts, which he then proceeds to rain down on his boyfriend who’s in the process of sitting up. Literally.

“What the–”

He is met with a shower of flowers and their healthy green stems, in which he tries to shield his face from by dropping his head and raising his hands, forming futile gates. Joe giggles and as he sits down, utters a quick apology for the prank. Paper Cut doesn’t take his teasing to heart but he pretends to sulk anyway, prompting his lover to elaborate on the sudden appearance of flowers separated from their fields and gathered on their picnic blanket.

“There’s a bunch of stray flowers around so I just hoarded them for no reason. But then this really nice lady taught me how to make flower crowns for them so that kinda took a bit of my time. You don’t mind, right?”

Paper Cut gives his lover a small laugh at his recount of his little walk. It’s difficult to get mad at this guy.

“Not at all. It’s very ‘you’ to already be making friends out here.”

Joe guiltily rubs a hand on the back of his head either way, offering an apologetic smile. His boyfriend merely shoots him a knowing glance.

“So lemme guess… you wanna try making flower crowns with me?”

Paper Cut starts to fiddle with a flower, staring at it curiously. He doesn’t have any kind of flower crown knowledge or experience so it’ll make for an interesting activity.

“Yeah! We can make them for each other!”

Joe is beaming once more. If the sun ever feels like retiring, Joe can easily fill in the vacancy.

“Haha, alright then.”

Well, at least he can say he tried his best?

For a first attempt, he’d say it’s not that bad. His demons are fighting amongst themselves to whisper in his ear that it could’ve been better while Paper Cut himself basks in the simplicity of having had fun making the flower crown.

“You finished?”

Paper Cut looks up from where his crown lay in his lap at the question and merely nods, a bit shy to show off his creation. Meanwhile, Joe raises his own like a well-earned trophy.

“Ta-da!”

The boundless wonder in his eyes can only make Paper Cut smile tenderly, matching the demure nature of the flower crown Joe made – all pale pink and yellow tulips, it’s a color combination that Paper Cut thinks is spring itself.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you.”

That is all he can muster up to say aloud. There is a proud twinkle in Joe’s eyes that eventually transitions into an affectionate one, once he places the flower crown on his boyfriend’s head.

Paper Cut is as red as the flowers on his lap now and he averts his gaze out of embarrassment. A light chuckle escapes his lover’s lips but he doesn’t say anything else.

“W-Well… I made this. It’s not as good as yours but…”

The blushing boy somehow manages to mutter and, still without looking at his lover, outstretches his hands to show Joe his flower crown. It is a dance of crimson tulips, and Joe can feel Paper Cut’s deep love and passion in his creation.

“Cut… this is the prettiest thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on. Aside from you, I mean.”

That manages to bring a laugh out of Paper Cut, his embarrassment subsiding slightly. He rises to his knees as Joe leans down to aid him in placing the crown on his head. They both laugh this time and Joe makes the first move to revert to his original position, allowing the flower crowning ceremony to resume.

They then proceed to gaze into each other’s eyes, both enamored by each other and unsure of what to do next with all this tension. But as usual, Joe initiates – once the two of them are within suitable proximity, he leans in for a delicate kiss. Paper Cut takes a second to overcome his shock and then reciprocates.

The world around seems to dissolve as they kiss and as Joe shifts to lay Paper Cut down. The former leans down once more to plant more kisses which the latter returns with no hesitation. Mother Nature sways in a sudden breeze, as if to shield them from prying eyes.

It is until Paper Cut lets out a little noise that clarity hits him like a truck. He instantly puts a hand between his face and Joe’s to stop him from continuing.

“Okay okay okay, I think that’s enough. We’re in public, remember?”

He insists as he watches Joe’s consciousness snap back into place as well. Joe only sighs, whether satisfied with their little love session or discontent that he was interrupted, Paper Cut doesn’t know. But it’s a reminder much needed for the both of them.

“It’s easy to forget when I’m around you, really.”

This time Paper Cut only rolls his eyes in amusement. His lover truly takes any chance to charm him to death.

“Corny.”

Joe guffaws as he pulls Paper Cut to sit up together.

“You like it though.”

Paper Cut lets out a brief “hah”, now leaning on Joe’s shoulder. Joe follows suit.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

They enjoy each other’s company for the remainder of the afternoon until they eventually have to head home (“Actually, can we stop by a mosque on the way home? It’s getting kind of late.” “Honey, you should’ve told me earlier, I’d hate for you to miss your prayer because of me!”). More bantering and singing ensue in their little car, with the addition of another kissing session once they’re actually home. But perhaps, home is wherever and whenever they’re together.

Spring is the season for the new, and the flower crowns that adorn their home walls mark the beckoning of a new chapter for the couple.

[scrunkly-week]

⊗ TWO ART PIECES? you've gotta be kiddin me! what is this, the art rain festival?? i love that they're not going outside for the winter season, for some reason i would have never thought to just draw my scrunklies playing uno while snowed in. that is such a grand idea. the coloring for the background is supreme. the hug? terrific.

Day 6 of scrunkly week, now with TWO Separate drawings!! 😈

This first one is just Yume and Raen chilling, it can get quite boring when you're stuck indoors!! Wonder who's going to win at uno? :0

Here's the second one, using the prompt: "A comfort unasked for yet welcomed"!

Using a different layout for a change!! I've become addicted to drawing coulds and sunsets now😭😭 (the second variation is there because I drew too much background that was covered up😞)

Being two immortal people (although under different circumstances), you really do need a hug every once in a while! Atleast they're not alone :,D

Thanks to the people at @scrunkly-week for making this such an enjoyable few days! Can't believe itll be over soon😞

[scrunkly-week]

☆ this is so cute !!! aww they're the sweetest <33 It has been an absolute PLEASURE to see your submissions this week, your art style is amazing and each entry was so much fun to look at and comment on :]

⊗ (hi, i know clink's commentating on this—im hijacking this post. i love tsubaoi. you've done them so much justice. peace.)

day 7 and final drawing for scrunkly week!! ofc I had to draw aoi, shes my silly <3

[scrunkly-week]

Hello I love the way y’all randomly highlight text in blues and oranges in your replies. It’s very colorful and brings me happy vibes! I hope y’all have a good day!!!!!

⊗ thank you! that was the intention we had when we colored things like this. we wanted to make things very comfortable and lighthearted. it's also that i like using them for emphasis and highlights. and initially only used orange! clink brought the blue in, and i was immediately obsessed. the rest is history.

☆ I think the colours are a fun way of emphasising words without overly relying on italics or bold effects. And they're comfy colours (orange is Nolan's favourite, blue is mine) ^-^

[scrunkly-week]

⊗ THIS AU IDEA SPARKS JOY. IT SPARKS INSPIRATION. it's also very allowed, and encouraged even, to bring out pieces from your past and either brush it up or showcase it for the week. scrunkly week is an event for making scrunkly things, but at its heart, its also about just showing and sharing your love for them, so if this was previously unposted then YIPPEE! HOORAY! we cheer.

⊗ vy looks just as cool as ever. what a great au, and backstory, and design for him considering the au. i love that the shading is coming from the little ball of light, and that said ball has lightning trails. it's all very good design choices.

Winter Blizzard - A Darkness Closes In On Body And Soul - Bad Start!Vy Ellion (OC/D&D AU)

This, he will come to know, is but one of a million timelines, and that in so many of them, he lives with his family. With two parents who love him, and a twin brother who he doesn't even remember now. With friends. With a city to roam. With the piece of mind that he will be cared for. That he won't be left on his own.

And when he sees this, and he sees what could have been… we'd all best hope his heart has thawed enough for him to properly grieve for it. Otherwise, those shards of ice will become all too dangerous.

'I'm close to finishing this,' I say, a fool, forgetting that even though I enjoy doing shading, that doesn't mean it doesn't take me ages.

Anyways! More Vy, but this time it's him in an alternate universe! Specifically an AU some of my friends from that campaign and myself cooked up where the party members were raised by various antagonists from said campaign. In other words: what if the woman who made your life (and hundreds of others) a living hell for five years kidnapped you when you were like, four, and raised you instead? Featuring severe abandonment issues and a deeply ingrained sense of perfectionism. Yaaaay!

This isn't actually a piece I drew for scrunkly week specifically, I will admit. I actually originally drew it in pencil like... a year ago. It's been sitting in my files for a while, so for today I thought I'd finally clean it up and color it digitally!

[scrunkly-week]

⊗ oh, this is so cute though! you did this with time constraints? you're amazing. i love him. my man looks very tired but so coquette. and honestly good for him. and good for you! i hope you get to reading the manga soon for that sweet sweet redemption arc. `⎚⩊⎚´ -✧

Scrunkly Week day 7: a crown of flowers upon the head

@scrunkly-week last one!!!

While I wanted Cyrus to be featured as soon as I saw the prompts for day 7, this wasn't originally what I had planned to draw. Time constraints lead me to make this, but I'm still very pleased with it! It's really cute and peaceful

I haven't read the manga but I want to read the Sinnoh arc sooooo bad. Cyrus looks badass AND there's a (hinted?) redemption arc for him????? THERAPY FOR CYBOY YIPPE!!!!!

Again thank you all so much for this event, it was a blast. I'll eagerly wait for next year's edition!

[scrunkly-week]

☆ aw man I love Vy so much and this is gutwrenching to find out. Poor guy :( however this is such a cool backstory for him! I love their poses in the drawing, especially the tiny smile on Vy's face. And the snippet of writing with him and Logan is so well written ?? I love how clear it makes his yearning and fear, it's very immersive despite being short :]

Orange Leaves - Yearn With Your Whole Heart - Vy Ellion and Logan (OC/D&D)

Every time Logan escaped his containment unit (which was often, given that while his memory was faulty, he was quite clever and an impressive escape artist), Vy would be sent to retrieve him. He wasn't sure why, exactly; surely the professor wouldn't have much of a problem getting Logan back. She had no small amount of magical expertise she could put to use. Not to say he minded. He liked Logan, and liked the chance to talk to him. Hell, Logan was probably his best friend in this place.

He'd always talk of the both of them escaping the lab, tug Vy along whatever new escape route he'd found as if Vy were one of the test subjects held in the lab, and not the professor's assistant. It wouldn't be 'escaping' for him, would it?

If it wasn't, though… why did he find himself yearning so deeply to go through with it, to leave each time Logan broke out again, only to be dragged back into the lab by some unplaceable fear with Logan in tow?

I didn't actually have anything planned for day 3, but apparently the slightest mention of Vy's backstory is enough to give me ideas. After all, yearning doesn't just have to be romantic, eh? Angst is always an option.

More on Vy's backstory under the cut - warning for death by mind shattering, manipulation/emotional abuse, and plenty of unethical science and despair.

I won't go into detail, because there's a lot of it, but here's a sort of summary of Vy's Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Five Years in Construct Hell:

Imagine you take a job as a laboratory assistant, because you need a better paying job than the one you have and you basically grew up in the fantasy equivalent of the biggest STEM city of the country. Your boss is, at first, cold and calculating, and eventually you find out she's those things and also horribly manipulative and pretty much morally bankrupt.

The department you and your boss work in studies constructs (artificially created beings, so golems, automatons, etc.) who have had something in their minds gone wrong - anything from something that makes them unable to fulfill their intended purpose to something that leaves them unable to fulfill any purpose. You are a naturally friendly person and end up befriending many of the lab's test subjects. Your boss conducts these studies by conducting a number of awful experiments that culminate in, essentially, tearing apart the minds/magical cores of these beings.

She even shows you how she does it once or twice. She gives you a long look after she does. You cannot place why, but you swear it's a promise she will do the same to you should you leave.

Through this and various other methods, she instills a deep gut-wrenching fear in you. And your fear response is freeze. She works to isolate you from your family. You are also wracked with paralyzing grief, and guilt for even being here. For not helping break out your friends. So you can't even make yourself leave until a lab accident sparks some small fraction of magical power in you which gives you the slightest sliver of confidence and hope to break through your fear and guilt and grief so you can leave.

Throughout your time in the laboratory, you also have frequent migraines of varying intensity. You later find out that these were a result of psychic splinters of the minds of your friends and acquaintances attaching to your own mind.

What else do you find out after you run away? Your boss was trying to use the trauma of all your friends dying to awaken the dormant power she sensed within you when she first met you, which was the whole reason she hired you in the first place. You, too, were a test subject. You would not have been allowed to leave.

...

...I went into detail anyway didn't I? Trust me though, there's even more to it than that that I will spare.

[scrunkly-week]

☆ MAXIE AND ARCHIE, THE DADS OF ALL TIME ??? this is such a delightful art piece I adore it so much. I was NOT expecting to see these two and this was such a pleasant surprise, it has made me very happy <33

Scrunkly Week day 6: a wall of snow keeps us hidden

Of course I had to make something with Pokévillains, what am I? Stupid? (yes)

This may be the entry I put the least effort in but it's funny. Wall of snow keeps us hidden more like wall of snow buries Maxie and Archie is NOT helping someone please save him before he turns into a popsicle

@scrunkly-week I imagine this and the previous one happening at the same time also. Lmao