#HHHH- IT'S FINALLY DONE

[zukkaoru]

🎶make your heart remember me🎶

Kunikida grits his teeth. Tanizaki is glowing in anticipation, and Fukuzawa doesn’t seem to think this is a big deal, but— The logistics of hosting such a popular band will take hours—if not days—to sort through, and they don’t have time. Will they need additional security, or does the band have its own? Will they need to rearrange rooms to make sure their special guests are all near one another in the securest part of the hotel? Do they intend to practice while they stay here, and what will be done about the inevitable noise complaints if that’s the case? And most importantly— Kunikida’s grip tightens on the pen in his hand, and a CRACK pierces the air. Of all the bands and idols on the planet, why the hell did it have to be Tainted?!

or: chuuya is a singer; kunikida is a tired hotel manager. have you guys heard this song before?

🎶 27.6k words || kunichuu || band au 🎶 a (belated) birthday gift for @littencloud9

[reigen-small-naturals]

started watching some bkpp interviews and they are soooo fun highly recommend! both guys are super loud and are bickering all the time so the energy is always high. and yes i haven't got to their crying interviews yet but i know i know billkin cries all the time hhhhh

[elvenbeard]

|| You never saw me on the right side || || You never saw me on the wrong || || You never saw me on the right side || || You never saw me coming ||

Lately I've been kinda obsessed with "Gloves" by Saint Punk, and whenever I'm kinda obsessed with a song for a specific character, I'd ideally love to make a music video... but since I currently don't have the time for that, I opted for an edit based on the lyrics. I don't think I've ever done anything comparable, or at least it's been a long while, but I really had so much fun with this xD I might do more for the rest of the song, because there's some more lines in there that just hit hard and that I'd like to visualize wit VP 👀

Also, in general, I see such cool more graphic-y edits by others in the fandom all the time (especially @pinkyjulien and @chevvy-yates come to mind, like... your stuff is *so good*), I wanted to try something along those lines myself with this xD

I just really really love the intro lines so much, because it reflects so many aspects of Vince as a character, I'm going feral just thinking about it... How neither his corpo-past nor his merc career are better or worse than the other (same shit, just a slightly different packaging, to him at least), how he himself is always kind of morally grey and a little unpredictable in whose side he's gonna end up on, how he never really fits in where he goes, but uses being underestimated because of that to his advantage, how he rose from a nobody to an Afterlife legend through sheer spite and determination, and so on!! asjdökfjdfaöjsf I love him so much and I love that song XD

[wcvensouls]

PSA !

while i had already done a soft launch of my carrd on the pinned post and blog links, i can now officialy say that it's done! it took way longer than it should have, but everyone finally has stats and bios and everything ready~ one important thing to note, tho: anyone that has followed me for awhile will quickly noticed that i shrunk down the amount of muses i have up considerably. from the hundreds i had before, i have only kept the strongest and most active muses on my carrd and moved the rest to a doc, under selective muses. however, no threads or plots will be dropped. those muses are still available for interaction, just under certain circumstances and might require some more plotting. would also like to take this opportunity to give a huuuuuuuuge thanks to @sunchases for all the help he's given me in setting everything up and working with pics, you were amazing and i could not have done it w/o you 🥺💜 ily ok

[coffeeworldsasaki]

Would nobody give me 5€ to get the pattern of this small heart themed google 😔

[canine-teethed-sheets]

25 and uhhhhhhhhhhhh cruz,,,,,, with,,,,,,,,,,, killer,,,,

-one and only

(this one seems kinda familiar huh?)

.... i don't know what you're talking about, friend <:}

[ bite down on this. / characters: cruz and killer / CW! It gets a little suggestive in the end, i mean not really?? but the tone kinda is so ]

Cruz was all alone on his hunt, pockets in hands and humming a wordless tune. He wiped off the remaining blood on the corners of his mouth, licking the excess.

Oh. He hears a scream. That means prey. As soon as he heard it, he rushed towards the victim's current area. He ran into bushes, vines, and and such until he finally smelt the sweet sweet blood. His face darkens with bloodlust (heh) as he sneak into the bushes and inspects the poor soul.

Unbeknownst to Killer, his day was about to get worse.

He got attacked by a villager with an arrow stuck to his arm. He managed to pry it out though but damn, did it hurt like hell. At this current moment, he's just letting out all the blood spill out so he can wash it later in some river. It's not the ideal option but he ain't human so.

And as soon as he wanted to take a breather, he was then pinned on his back, his face digging into the ground. " GAHK— augh, listen buddy, if you wanna kill me, just do it swiftly. i already have a bloody arm so get on with it. "

" oh, hoho... i'm not here for your death yet. " Cruz purred beside his skull, emitting a blush and a gulp of fear. He laughs at the Killer's expression. " i'm here for your delicious blood. "

Oh fuck, he's a vampire. He struggled to get himself out of this but the damn monster was quite strong.

He shivered at the feel of a cold tongue licking his blood off his arm. Without a warning, Killer softly moaned as the vampire sucked the blood. Cruz was slightly amused by the sound and hummed. " that's quite the sound, don't you think? "

Shit, shit, shit. He's gonna die. He knew this as he felt two hands held the side of his head.

" let's cut this short and end it here. of course, after i get a bite down on this. "

Everything went black after a crack.

[shaadowmilkcookie]

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OKAY

pick your shadow milk !?

@shaadowmilkcookie *takes your smilk and admires it

[butt-puncher]

Absolutely humiliated myself in front my teacher my brain dead email, I got another whole ass essay due in like a day that I haven't made progress on, and the left hinge on my laptop broke earlier so fuck me I guess

[grayskies2525]

A Sneezy Little Christmas

This is just an incredibly self-indulgent 2,500 word one-shot about one of my OC's who has a cold on Christmas (well, Christmas Eve) and can't stop sneezing. That's it -- that's the whole story. I can't emphasize that enough. This is literally just sneezing 😅 Warning for a tiny bit of mess toward the end.

***

Felix isn’t going to sneeze. He isn’t going to sneeze because he’s already sneezed what must be one hundred times today, alone, and surely that should be enough to satisfy his body. There’s no rational  reason he should continue having to endure sneeze after sneeze. So, he makes the decision that he is done.  With his lips slightly parted, he pushes out a slow, steady breath and then slowly inhales the same way. He smiles at the victory. One whole breath and no sneeze! He deserves a medal, or trophy, or a bench dedicated to him, or— 

“HEP-NkxxT!”

“Bless you,” Connor says, his voice low, from his spot next to him at the dining table, as he rubs Felix’s back soothingly.

Felix narrows his eyes at his boyfriend. His annoyance isn’t from being blessed, but is instead from the simple fact that now he’s going to have to open his mouth to speak. Here he is, fighting for his life desperately trying to keep breathing from triggering a sneeze — and now he has to try speaking.

“Connor heh! Hhhhh hehhhh HEN-NKT’choooo!” Felix pitches forward, capturing the sneeze in his pitifully used tissue. “I think may-maybe we should hhh hhhh  put a moratorium on blessings during this dinner be-because —” Felix can’t finish the sentence. He just can’t. His nose is brimming with itchy, burning sneezes that are begging to topple out of him. His eyelids flutter as he focuses on the Santa Clause painting hung on the dining room wall. He stares at it as he continues letting out little gasps of air. “Heehhhh hhhhh Hhhhhh!”

“Oh dear,” he hears his mother say from her spot at the table across from him. “Okay, well, Felix is obviously too occupied by his cold right now to offer much to our conversations. So, Ben, why don’t you tell us how things have been with your jobs?”

Felix is thankful for attention being redirected to his best friend. Ben is, for all intents and purposes, his brother and is one of the closest people he has in his life. Ben also has a propensity to talk a lot about nothing, which is exactly what Felix needs right now because all Felix is capable of doing — all he’s been capable of since he woke up on this horrible Christmas Eve — is sneeze. Felix sits, fork in hand, in a futile attempt to maintain the pretense of actually being able to eat the dinner his parents cooked. 

He takes a shockingly deep breath — a breath that seems to draw in as much air as his lungs can physically hold— and continues staring at the picture on the wall. This time, there’s no gasping or hitching. He’s trapped in this one single breath while his eyes prickle with tears and his nostrils flare as his body prepares for the inevitable. He clenches one fist at his side. He uses his other hand to frantically wave his tissue —  a tissue that is, admittedly, strikingly damp and likely useless at the moment — in front of his face. He silently begs for the release to finally just come — to please, please just come already.

And it does.

“EEHHHHH-ETzz’SCHIEWWWW!” 

As prepared as he was for the sneeze, he’s still shocked by the force at which his entire body snaps forward. The way Ben suddenly jerks away from him —  putting an almost comical amount of distance between them — and his subsequent exclamation of “Christ, Felix!”  gives Felix the impression that he may not have captured as much of the spray with his tissue as he had intended. He supposes it would have been better to have had the tissues actually covering his nose and face instead of held out a foot in front of him. In his defense, he can normally stifle with ease, so he wasn’t exactly prepared for the harsh release of spray.

“Sorry,” Felix mumbles, sheepishly. He looks around as his father, mother, boyfriend, and best friend all stare at him. “I, uh… I think I must have picked up an especially bad cold from somewhere because I just can’t stop heehhh I can’t-can’t stop hep-NKT! HEH-NxxT! AH’NKT-chooo! At’NKT! HEP-nkt! I can’t stop sneezing hhhh hhh no matter h-h-how how hard I HEP-N’GKT! Holy shit,” he mumbles, blinking hard, keeping his harm pressed to his face. “Uh pardon my language, Mom. I just really can’t stop, oh my god.” His chest is heaving and more sneezes quickly begin tumbling out of him. “Eh-NKt’chooo! NKT’choooo! HmpKT’choooo! EH-TCHOOO! NKT’shooo! HMP’tshoooo!”

“Damn,” Ben says, sounding awed. “You know he’s really sick when he stops holding them in like he normally does.”

“Okay, um, excuse me. I need to uh st-step away MMpt’shhhhhhh! MPPT’SHOOO! HMPT’ShOOOOO!” Felix continues muffling sneezes into his arm as he makes his way to the bathroom. 

__________

Felix stands in the bathroom for a couple of minutes and still doesn’t think he’s ready to come out. His breaths are coming out erratically and there’s still such a sharp tickle buried deep inside his sinuses. He has already sneezed an astonishing amount, and he’s not proud of how many germs he’s sure he’s released into this small room. He’s just helplessly under control of this cold. He’s lost all autonomy when it comes to choosing to sneeze or not to sneeze. 

He hears a knock on the door and a “Felix, are you all right in there? Is it okay if I come in?” 

Felix sniffles. “Y-yes you can come in HET-NgT’CHOO!” The failed stifle bursts free in what Felix thinks to be a rather dramatic fashion with droplets of various sizes glistening on the bathroom mirror’s reflective glass. 

Connor opens the unlocked door and steps in, wearing a sympathetic smile. “Hey there. How are you feeling?” he asks as he places his hand comfortingly on Felix’s back. 

“Uh…” Felix says, then sniffles deeply. “Babe, I think I’m, like, super sick,” he says before sneezing down at the floor. 

“Really?” Connor asks, letting out a light chuckle. “I think we may need further evidence before we can draw a definitive conclusion.”

Felix tries to glare, but only succeeds in sneezing. “This is no time for jokes. I’m dying, Connor. I know people joke about dying when they have colds but I’m — I’m — I’m? HeeEEHHH’NGT’CHUUUHH!” 

And with that, the air becomes tainted with yet another contagious, germ-filled cloud. “Connor, I — I can’t even fucking cover anymore. They just — they won’t stop. To catch all of them, I’d have to have a perpetual arm held up or a ti-tissue heh-it’shhoooooo!" Felix lets out an exasperated sigh. "And, quite frankly, I’m too exhausted for that. Why? Why why why do they just keep coming?”  he asks, mostly rhetorically. 

Connor hums in thought next to him. “I think it’s your body’s way of banishing the cold from your body.”

“I know. I teach biology. I understand viruses, but — but why so — so many heh-m’KTshoooo!”

“Well, uh, something tells me you have a lot of that cold virus in you and your immune system is kind of… well, it’s freaking the fuck out. I think it’s trying to expel all those little viral demons out of you all at once,” Connor says with a gentle smile

“Well, personally, I find this to be an overly aggressive reaction and — EH-mpfft’shuuuh! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, I’m going to tear this whole thing off my face!” Felix exclaims in anguish, throwing back his head and groaning. 

“Oh, don’t do that. I love your little nose,” Connor says, smiling fondly at him. 

“You wouldn’t love it if it were yours, Connor,” Felix says, voiced laced with annoyance as he  rubs his nose. Feeling fatigue settle deep in his bones, he wanders over to the toilet to shut the lid and sit down. He rests his head against the wall, keeping his eyes shut.

He feels Connor’s cool hand against his forehead. Felix hums in contentment at the soothing touch. 

“You don’t feel like you have a fever,” Connor says.

“No,” Felix agrees. “No fever, but I feel like I could sleep for 20,000 years,” he says, not having the strength to open his eyes.

“Aw, don’t do that. I’m afraid I would miss you.”

“You’d be better off,” Felix says, hating how it comes out as a whine. “I’m useless now.”

“Aww, Felix. You look so pitiful,” Connor says, though Felix doesn’t miss the small laugh Connor lets out.  “We’ll get you feeling better soon, okay? Do you want to go ahead and leave? So you can get some rest?” Connor asks.

Felix contemplates this, but his nostrils are flaring and his breath is hitching and he’s about to — 

He feels something clasp around his nose and opens his eyes to see Connor pressing tissues against Felix’s face. “You look like you’re about to sneeze, and I don’t mean to offend you, but your sniffles sound… well, let’s just say that your next sneeze doesn’t sound like it’ll be a pretty sight if you leave it uncovered.”

Felix can’t process the words. He’s preoccupied with more pressing matters.

“HEFF-mph’ssshhhhttttt! MMg’shuuuhhhh! Eck’fshhuuuhhh! Aff’shhhtt! K’SHUUUH!”

Connor was certainly correct in his assessment of the current state of Felix’s nose. It is not a pretty situation. Even with the tissues, he can still feel steady trickle of warm wetness seeping past his nostrils and down his lips. He sees Connor’s wide-eyed, shocked expression and has a single millisecond to feel shame course through him before his body’s lost to another violent paroxysm. 

“HEP’NKxxxT’SHOOO!”

Felix truly did attempt a stifle out of courtesy, considering Connor’s hand had still been firmly pressing tissues over his nose. It seems, though, that the attempt created even more of a mess. 

“Sorry,” Felix says, voice mangled by an obscene amount of congestion and the tissues still clasped against his nose. 

Connor clearly attempts a smile, but it resembles more of a wince. “Bless you…. Uh, I’m going to be honest, I don’t think I thought this decision through entirely. I guess I thought you’d just have one sneeze? You kind of just kept going, though.... But, that was totally my bad. Nothing about today has indicated that your nose would be happy with one single sneeze. Do you… do you mind taking over now, sweetie?” Connor asks and Felix realizes he’s still sitting there while his nose drips with Connor holding Felix’s soaked tissues.

Felix slowly brings up his own hand to take over. Connor hands Felix over several more tissues. Felix blows his nose, feeling its contents pour into the tissue. It's a gurgling, long-lasting blow that easily drenches his tissues. He’s vaguely aware of Connor washing his hands. He winces slightly as he realizes that Connor had surely gotten some of Felix’s mess on his fingers.

Felix finishes blowing his nose, dropping the used tissues into the wastebasket. He scrunches up his nose at the itch he still feels present. 

“Oh, your poor nose,” Connor says, frowning.

“I know,” Felix says with a sniffle. “I’m one step away from Santa asking me to guide his sleigh tonight.”

Connor laughs, then cards his hand through Felix’s mess of wavy hair. He lowers his head, placing a gentle kiss on Felix’s forehead. When Connor draws back, he smiles and locks his gaze with Felix’s. “You know,” Connor starts. “I do recall someone warning you to be careful at the mall the other day. When there were… oh, I don’t know, dozens of people coughing and sneezing literally everywhere. In fact, if my memory serves correct, you seemed to completely ignore these suggestions, choosing instead to walk directly into the path someone openly coughed in.”

Felix cringes at the memory. “That may have been a mistake.”

Connor smiles, and Felix appreciates how it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. As annoyed as he is at Connor’s taunting — though truthful —  words, when Connor smiles like that, Felix will melt every single time.

“You’re cute when you wiggle your nose like that,” Connor says. Then, to Felix’s horror, he touches Felix’s nose. It’s only the tip of it and Connor is quick to pull his finger away, but the touch is firm and with Felix’s nose full of a cold, that’s all it takes.

He shakes his head violently and holds his hand out in front of him. He feels his warm, hitching breaths hitting the palm of his hand. 

Felix sits on the toilet seat, his chest heaving and eyes streaming tears. “HEHHHH Hhhhhh HHH HHHHH hhhhhhhh HHHHH!” 

He sees, through watery eyes, Connor roll his eyes and huff out a laugh. “I think I’m going to do us  both a favor and hurry this along.” With that ominous statement, Connor hands Felix several tissues. Felix, breath still hitching, gives Connor a questioning look.

Connor brings his long, slender finger up to Felix’s nose and begins to lightly trace over the bridge. Feeling the vibrations radiate throughout his entire sinus cavity, Felix throws his head back, using one hand fiercely to grip the side of the toilet seat and his other to clutch the tissues over his nose, while his breaths come out in desperate gasps until sneeze after sneeze begins to explode out of him..

“AAHHHHHH N’GXXT! N’GXXT! G’NXXT! NG’T! NG’T! NG’T!” Felix’s shoulders shake and his head pounds with the force of the stifled sneezes, but he instinctively continues stifling because that’s always been his natural response. “NG’T! NG’T! NG’T! NG’T! NG’T! NG’T! NG’T! HAAHHHHHH NGT’choooo! NGT’chooooooo! NGxT’choooooo! HEP’NKt! HEP-NKT! NKT’SHOOOOO! EP’nkt’choooo! ET’SCHIEWWWW! ET’SCHIEWWWWW! ET-SCHOOOOO! ECK-SHOOOO! ”

Though many of the sneezes were stifled, he still manages to flood the tissues. He blows, sneezes some more, then looks up at Connor.

“Babe, I’m literally dying,” Felix says, his eyes still pouring tears and his nose is dripping like a faucet.

Connor is looking at Felix the way one typically looks at a swarm of ants feasting upon a rotten piece of food — as though Felix is disgusting but too interesting to look away from. 

“You’re not dying,” Connor says, rolling his eyes, though still smiling fondly in that way he often does. “You just have a really bad head cold. Like, really bad — to a truly impressive degree."

Felix feels another itch burrowing out from the depths up his sinuses, slowly crawling along to the surface. Felix can’t hold back a whimper as his shoulders sag and his expression crumples in defeat. 

“More?” Connor asks, sounding incredulous. 

“More,” Felix confirms, breath already hitching.

“Maybe you are dying,” Connor says with an expression mixed with concern and amusement.

Felix can’t roll his eyes, or shoot Connor the glare he deserves, or respond in any way other than to sneeze. So he does.

Then, he sneezes again. And again. And again.

Felix hears Connor muttering something about Felix needing rest and maybe some Benadryl, but Felix is helpless to respond. He’s at complete and total mercy of this cold. Felix resigns himself to the fact that this is simply going to be how he spends Christmas this year.

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

hi! so i loved the whats in between fic (because everyone does) and i wanted to ask if you could write something like the spiderteens watches broke and they cant get back home so instead of waiting it out in the spider society place they go to miguel and readers house and sleep over! and ofc miguel complaining about just having them fix the watches but that would take too long

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Summary: Miles is on a mission that ends up going awry right as it's about to end, and with his watch shattered there's no way to get back home. The answer? Stay at you and Miguel's shared home for the night :3

Warnings: None!! It's really fluffy, Miguel is soft with Miles (I'm sorry I couldn't help it hhhh)

It's late at night as Miles walks through the Spider Society HQ. Far too late for anyone to still be around, everyone was already at home in their own universes. He on the other hand was coming back from a mission that went awry.

It was supposed to be easy. Pop in, pack up the anomaly and head back to drop them off before going home. But for the last 7 hours the villain managed to evade his grasp until he finally cornered them on the edge of town at a shipping dock. But somehow on the trip back to HQ the villain managed to escape both the webbing they were stuck in and the force field keeping them trapped.

Had it not been for the fact that the villain glitched out mid-fight, HQ might be a lot worse for wear than it was. Luckily Miles managed to recapture the villain and place them into the holding area, but not without a cost.

In his hands was his watch, broken to pieces. He already loathed the lashing out he was about to receive from the Leader of the Society, but since there was no way for him to get home otherwise there was no avoiding the conversation.

Making his way through the doorway, he’s surprised to see you analyzing the screens instead of Miguel, having already mentally prepared for the scolding he was about to receive.

Right before he was about to open his mouth to speak, his form glitches out as he groans in pain, his atoms clearly unhappy to be existing in a universe that wasn’t his own.

“Miles!” you say, concern washing over your expression as you finally take note of him. Swinging down from the platform, you grasp his shoulders keeping him upright. “Are you alright? Is there something wrong with your watch?” you ask as you check him over like a worried mother.

“Something wrong? More like it's in multiple different pieces,” Lyla says, popping up behind him and looking at the broken watch he was trying to hide.

Miles’ expression grows even more sheepish as he brings his hands around to show you.

“I’m really sorry, the anomaly I was trying to capture escaped the trap somehow on the way back to HQ,” he says, and your eyes widen as you glance back to your screens. At that moment his body glitches out again, and you look at him worriedly. Then your expression brightens as you remember something.

“Give me one sec, sweetie,” you say with a kind smile before swinging back up toward the platform. Searching around, you reach into Miguel’s top drawer and find just what you were looking for.

“Hey Miles, catch!” you say, tossing him the bracelet. The Spider Society ‘Day Pass’ as Peter liked to call it. Relief immediately washes over his face as he slips the bracelet on, and he says a small ‘thank you’ as you swing back to his level.

“You don’t happen to have any spare watches lying around, do you?” he asks, shuffling back and forth on his feet. A nervous tick you seem to have picked on in the time you have known him.

“Typically we do…but Jess brought in a few new recruits the other day so we just ran out. Lyla, what’s the status on the production of those new watches?” you ask, and she pops over onto your shoulder as she scrolls through her own screens.

“Hm…it should be about another 16 hours until they’re done. We had to have some parts shipped in from the city which put them behind schedule,” she explains.

“Usually we would just fix it for you rather than you getting a brand new watch, but considering the state of yours…” you say, taking the broken watch into your own hands. The screen was shattered, the wristband was practically nonexistent and somehow the circuit board was hanging out in pieces.

“What on Earth even happened to this? Did the anomaly chew it up and spit it out again or something,” you say with a laugh, and Miles only chuckles nervously.

“Yes, actually. That’s exactly what happened,” he winces, and you only laugh harder for a few moments before pulling yourself together, your expression becoming a touch more serious.

“You’re not hurt anywhere, right?” you worry over him, turning him from side to side to check him over. You had a soft spot for the young Spiders here at the society and weren’t afraid to show it. Miguel had one too, though he loathed to admit it.

“No, I’m alright. It’s just my watch that isn’t,” he says, and you smile at him understandingly.

“Alright, but if I sense that you’re lying to me you’re heading straight to the infirmary young man, do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am!” he says, and you laugh softly.

“Don’t call me ma’am, it makes me feel old,” you say.

“Sorry, ma’am! Wait…” his eyes widen slightly as he realizes his mistake. You only snort.

“We’ll work on it, Miles,” you grin. “The only issue right now is how to get you home…Lyla, is there anyone still at HQ? I left my watch at home since I thought I’d only be staying on base today,” you ask.

“Nope! Sorry, ma’am,” she says jokingly, and you narrow your eyes at her playfully. “Everyone’s missions finished up early today, Miles was the last one back.”

“Damn,” you say as you run through things you could do.

“Since there’s no way to get you back to your universe until the watches finish up…since it’s not too long, how would you feel about staying at me and Miguel’s house for the night? I was about to head back when you came in,” you suggest, and Miles’ face drops at the suggestion.

“Yours and Miguel’s house?” he asks. He knew the two of you were together, you had revealed you were married a few months back but he didn’t think he would be staying at your shared home.

“No offence, but there is no way Miguel would be happy to have somebody staying the night, let alone me,” he says quickly, and you give him a sympathetic look.

“Well, it's a good thing it's not only his house, it's mine too. And I’m inviting you to stay the night, okay? I don’t want you staying at HQ alone, there’s nowhere to sleep unless you want to rest on a hard pillar all night and we have a guest room you can stay at,” you explain, but Miles’ expression is still unsure.

“Look, I know the two of you didn’t exactly get off on the right foot when you first met, but I can give you my word when I say that you are one of the few people he tolerates even if he doesn’t show it. Okay Miles?” you say, and while he doesn’t look like he fully believes you quite yet, he finally relents.

“Alright,” he says, and you pat his shoulder warmly.

“Alright,” you say with a smile. “C’mon, let’s head to my car and we’ll head back to my place, yeah?”

“He won’t be angry that I’m there…right?” Miles asks as he fidgets a bit as he settles into the passenger seat.

“Not on my watch,” you chuckle. “He had the day off, he should be in a great mood. But you know, a lot of his anger is just a front for the things he’s been through. He doesn’t like people getting close to him, and while I admit it isn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, we all deal with grief differently. Do you get what I mean?” you explain as you drive back home.

“Yeah…yeah, I do,” he says softly, and you smile sympathetically as you glance over at him.

Despite the good work that everyone does at the Spider Society, being heroes in their own worlds, they all have some of the most difficult lives. Filled with suffering, grief, secrets and loss. It was the lives they were dealt by the hands of fate, and though that fate is shared across the multiverse it didn’t make it any less hard.

“He’s hard on you and your friends because you’re young and he thinks he can mould you into the heroes he wants you to be, which isn’t right and I tell him that often. But it also means he thinks you all have greater potential beyond what you can see, and he does care…even if he struggles to show it. Don’t worry too much, sweetheart,” you say. You knew you were rambling, but you just wanted to ease his worries at least a bit. He nods before his stomach interrupts the conversation.

You laugh a bit as a flustered expression washes over his face.

“Hungry? I’ll whip up something for a late-night dinner, I’m pretty hungry myself. How does that sound?” you say warmly, and he nods.

“…Thank you, really. I’m grateful you’re doing all this for me, you really didn’t have to,” he says, and you shake your head.

“Don’t worry about it, Miles. I quite adore you and your little friends, even if you do get up to the most trouble,” you say, memories of them and all their pranks around HQ playing through your head as you pull up to your driveway.

The house was a bit outside of the main city, somewhere quiet and less industrial than the heart of Nueva York. The lights were still on in the living room, indicating that Miguel hadn’t yet gone to bed which was to be expected. He always waited up for you to come home, (not to mention he had the worst sleep schedule).

“C’mon sweetheart,” you say, stepping out of the car. But you notice Miles’ expression, looking absolutely terrified even though he tried his best to hide it. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit.

“Miles, you’ve been here before. I promise it’s alright, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, finally smiling a bit.

You both walk up the front steps, and you unlock the door like you’ve done so many times before.

“Mi vida,” you hear Miguel’s voice say as he appears around the corner. It washes over you like a warm summer breeze, and you feel the tension leave your body as you finally return home. You can’t help the soft smile that plays across your face.

“Hello, darling,” you say, and he can’t help but smile back.

“Now…I know I didn’t give you a heads up but,” you say as you pull Miles out from where he was hiding behind the front door. Immediately Miguel’s expression drops slightly, not so much in anger but more so in annoyance that there was someone there to interrupt his time with his wife.

“Before you say anything, Miles’ watch broke on the way back from a mission, and you know that the new watches are still in production since we ran out a few days ago so I figured since they would be done relatively soon, he can stay the night and head back to his universe in the morning?” you say, not so much asking but telling him much to his dismay.

For a moment he only sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking back at you. He could never stay upset at you, at least not for long.

“While a warning would have been nice, mi alma,” he scolds lightly, and you grin sheepishly.

“You can stay the night Miles, though it would do you well to not break any more watches in the future,” he chastises, and Miles straightens up almost comically.

“Yes, sir! I’m really sorry about that, the villain managed to escape the trap somehow and managed to bite it off of my arm before I could get away, and then it got really hectic back at HQ but don’t worry though because there isn’t too much damage, and I managed to clean up the most of it but there might still be some debris around and-” he rambles nervously, but Miguel’s snort of amusement interrupts him.

“Look kid, I get it. Mistakes happen, just don’t make it a point to break Society's property too often, yeah?” Miguel says a kind expression on his face that soothes Miles’ nerves.

“Yes, sir!” he says immediately.

“Don’t call me sir, it makes me feel old. Miguel is fine,” he replied, and you laugh slightly at the fact that you said the same thing earlier.

“Come inside already Miles, or are you planning to spend the night on our porch,” you say, pulling him in gently by the wrist.

“Are gorditas alright? I know they’re not exactly dinner food but I’m craving them,” you ask him, noticing Miguel’s expression light up at the mention of them, almost identical to the expression on Miles’ face.

“Gorditas? They’re my favourite!” Miles says, and you smile as you head into the kitchen to whip them up.

“Behave, you two!” you call out as you leave them to their own devices in the living room.

~

Before long, the late dinner is served. Small talk and banter are tossed around the table as you all eat together, then you usher Miles off to bed like a worried Mother given the late hour before heading off to bed yourself with Miguel by your side.

“That was quite the surprise today, mi vida,” Miguel says as you join him in bed, Miles all settled in the guest room and snoring away.

“I know…but he’s a good kid and I felt bad leaving him at HQ alone,” you say sheepishly, peering up to look at him.

“Lyla’s there…” he trails off, and you smack him playfully.

“Miguel,” you chastise, and he raises his hands in surrender as you snort. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding,” he says, and you just shake your head with a smile.

“I felt bad, you know?” you say softly, and he turns a bit more to listen to you speak.

“This life we all live here at the Society? It’s hard, especially for the young ones. I didn’t want him to feel alone in a universe that isn’t even his own, this life is lonely enough as is,” you voice your thoughts. It really was hard, living this life and protecting the canon at the expense of other Spiders’ suffering. Anything you could do for them you would do, to make things at least a bit easier. It’s why you were pretty much Miguel’s right hand alongside Jess, you were the gentle touch paired with his cold calculated self.

“You really do have a soft spot for them, don’t you?” Miguel asks, and you chuckle softly.

“I do, but don’t pretend that I don’t notice you do too my love,” you say, and he scoffs slightly before glancing away. But by now you knew that was one of his tells that he wasn’t being entirely honest with you.

“I’m not soft, querida,” he says, and you give him a knowing look to which he switches off the lights to avoid.

“Whatever you say, tough guy,” you say before snuggling in closer, a content smile on your face as you feel yourself drift off to sleep in his arms.

Taglist: @beiroviski, @scaraza, @blueoorchid,@remuslupinwifee, @local-mr-frog, @johfaam0, @rawegggohan, @honeycriess, @alexenoirex,@chimpkinnuggies ,@rqdior, @banana—belle, @notasadgirlipromise, @6billionyearsold, @gods-perfectidiot, @ieatmunson, @honeii-puff, @wh0re4zaynmalik, @toplinehyunjin, @ohworm-writes, @ishii03, @snowywhiterose

A/N: I can't help it, Miles is just so precious I had to have the reader be motherly with him lol. Thanks for reading! And I apologize for the delay in requests, it's a teensy bit overwhelming but I promise I am working on them!!

[eyelessfaces]

I'll be the silence ringing through and through and through

santiago garcia x reader

summary: if santi had it his way, he would be back home, with you, his mouth on your neck or something of that kind– it would have been possible, a few months ago. or in some alternate universe where he hadn’t fucked it all up. in short; santi wants you back.

warnings: mentions of a breakup but no reason is mentioned, alcohol consumption

tags: f!reader, exes to lovers, inevitable angst, fluff

word count: 1.7k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

happy new year!!!! randomly dropping a santi fic to start it right hhhh

fic title is from the song "heart to heart" by fiddlehead :)

reblogs and feedback are extremely (I cannot stress this enough) appreciated!!

If Santi had it his way, he would be back home, with you, his mouth on your neck or something of that kind–

It would have been possible, a few months ago.

Or in some alternate universe where he hadn’t fucked it all up, and where he would be holding you by the waist and kissing your cheek instead of having to watch you from afar, scrutinizing every littlest movement of yours while he was slumped in Frankie’s couch, like an hermit, feeling helpless, the neck of his beer being the only thing to kiss his lips tonight.

Maybe it was just the alcohol, maybe everything would seem way less dramatic tomorrow, save for the hangover headache – but no, scratch that, he wasn’t even drunk, just barely tipsy, so no, tomorrow won’t be better.

It must be the sight of you laughing at another man’s joke then, probably.

Was he hitting on you? Was he just a friend, like Benny, Will and Frankie were to you? 

He shouldn’t care; that wasn’t his business, that wasn’t his problem. Not anymore. Not that he had been the kind to carefully observe your every movement any time you talked to another man back when you were together. He had never really been of that kind, he trusted you.

Except here, right now, it was his problem. For some reason, it felt like it was, and even more than before, when you were still together.

Because now that you didn’t love him anymore, there was nothing to stop you from doing anything with that man.

Would that man fill the hole Santi had left in your heart? Would he make you happier than Santi ever had? 

Probably. He was probably a good man, would be a good boyfriend, wouldn’t fuck everything up. Would probably even marry you, and he’d be damn right to.

“He’s gay” Will snorts, plopping down next to Santi, giving a small pat to his chest. Santi’s gaze finally departs from you to turn to his right, where his friend has settled next to him.

“Good to know, but I‘m not interested in him,” Santi jokes, looking down at his half full beer. Half empty.

“That, I know.” Will cocks his head to the side, a more serious expression over his face as he brings his beer to his mouth. Santi’s gaze darts back to you and that man talking, a sick feeling filling his stomach as he sees you smile and shake your head frantically just the way you used to when he would come up with a shitty joke. “I’m like, eighty three percent sure she’s still in love with you.” Will speaks again, nudging Santi’s knee with his own.

“Seventeen percent of what?” Santi chuckles, more convinced that the rest of that percentage is the most important part.

“Seventeen percent of, you still fucked up, man.” Will says, patting Santi’s knee before getting up from the couch, already. “I’m not good at math dude, but all I can tell you is, it’s worth trying again!” he declares over the music, pointing at Santi before disappearing through the crowd. 

Easier said than done.

Santi sighs, bites the inside of his cheek as he runs a hand over his few days old stubble. 

He had never had any issue talking to people with ease, but for some reason, the idea of talking to you tonight seemed like the most intimidating thing he ever had to do in his entire life.

But god, did he want to look at you in the eyes again. To have you make that focused frown whenever you were attentively listening to someone. To see the way your lips curled up into a smile when you could pre shot a joke, and the way you still pretended not to know what the punchline was, and still ended up laughing.

Santi smiles to himself, finishes his beer, and when he looks up, you’re not in the crowd anymore. Then Benny joins him when he goes to the kitchen for a refill, and you happen to slip out of his mind for the time being. 

—

The air is crisp, compared to the smothering heat inside. It tickles your cheeks, the tip of your ears, it hits every exposed area of skin, the sweat over it now feeling ice cold.

It’s all you needed and wanted, so you shouldn’t complain.

You walk back and forth along Frankie’s porch, the overwhelming feeling of the slight tipsiness and the fast beating of your heart simmering down, and you lean against the wall, taking a deep breath. 

You turn at the sound of the door opening beside you, the loud, previously muffled sound of the music now clear, ending up face to face with the one person you did your best to not go talk to all night long.

“Shit, sorry. I’ll go” Santi apologizes, still firmly holding the doorknob, starting to go back inside.

“No, no, it’s alright” you say, inviting him to stay with you. “I didn’t privatize the porch” you joke, giving him an awkward smile.

He chuckles as he tentatively steps outside, closing the door behind him, leaning his back against the wall beside you. Neither of you say a single word for a while, then he looks over at you, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. “I assumed you wouldn’t wanna see me.” he finally declares, making you scoff and shrug.

“I actually don’t mind,” you say, looking over at him. He’s now looking ahead, a small pinched smile over his lips. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip before looking back at you.

“I feel like an idiot.”

“Fair enough, you are one.” you immediately sigh, looking away. His gaze is too heavy. “I loved you.” the knot inside your throat tightens only after you pronounce the words, thankfully.

He swallows hard, a shiver running down his spine. It’s not the cold air’s doing. He stares deeply at you, watching you doing your best not to look at him.

“I know.” 

The atmosphere hangs heavily as the awkwardness takes over. The silence lingers, punctuated only by the sounds of the night around you. 

He pushes himself away from the wall, taking a step closer and turning to look at you, forcing the both of you to truly establish eye contact for the first time tonight.

"I fucked up, I know," he admits, his voice low and filled with remorse. "But I never meant to hurt you." he shakes his head. “Ever.”

You blink, your gaze tearing from his. "You did anyway," you reply, your tone tinged with a mixture of bitterness and sadness. The memories of the pain he caused are still fresh, wounds not fully healed. 

He runs a hand over his stubble, a nervous habit you remember all too well. "I know I can't change anything that I did, but I want you to know that I'm sorry."

Your eyes meet his own again, searching for sincerity. "It doesn't fix everything," you say, your guard still up. 

He nods understandingly. "I just needed to tell you, and to let you know I haven't stopped thinking about you."

The vulnerability in his gaze begins to chip away at your defenses. Despite the hurt, a part of you softens. "Santi–”

He cuts you off– "I've been thinking, and you know I don’t do it often” he jokes, scoffing. “And I realized how much I lost when I let you go." 

A wave of internal conflict washes over you. Your past relationship is a heavy burden you’re carrying, and you’re not sure you should grant him your forgiveness, yet there's a glimmer of something in his eyes that translates his genuine desire for redemption, and there’s some part of you that craves everything you had with him.

“Please,” he starts, his gaze chasing yours as he softly holds onto your wrist. “Please give me a second chance”

His plea hangs in the air, and you can feel the sincerity in his touch. The warmth of his hand on your wrist is a rough contrast to the chill in the night air. You sigh, and look away, torn between the pain of the past and the possibility of a different future. The silence stretches painfully, and you can hear the faint sounds of the night around you – a distant car passing by, the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

A shiver shakes through you, the brown of his eyes seeming deeper than usual, softer as he silently begs for you to say something.

“Second and last chance” you finally declare, refusing to give up on everything you’ve done to try to get over him, yet indulging in everything you’ve ever wanted since you’ve been apart. 

He nods silently, his hand leaving your wrist to settle at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Okay. Alright. I won’t need another one” he promises confidently, the frown over his face eventually softening. You smile as his thumb gently rubs over your now cold skin.

“Alright, but you gotta kiss me for it to take effect” you tease as you break the tense atmosphere, readjusting your position onto your feet and placing your hands at either side of his neck. His skin is warm, and you feel his muscles contract under your hands when he laughs.

“Good thing I’ve been wanting to do it all night long” he smirks before leaning in and pressing his lips against yours, smiling as you sigh into the kiss. This is it; you feel complete again. 

He tastes of booze, and his light stubble slightly stinging when he moves are surprisingly pleasant. Your hand shifts to rest at the back of his neck, feeling his scar here, his own hands pulling you closer at the waist where he squeezes lightly when you run your other hand through his short hair.

You pull away only once it becomes necessary, the lack of oxygen making you all giddy though you’re not sure it’s just it. Santi is still holding you close as he presses his warm lips over your forehead, laughing when a shiver runs through your spine and makes you jolt. 

“Alright” he declares as he strips himself of his jacket, pulling it over your shoulders.

“You already pulled this trick on our first date” you scoff, looking over at him. A sly smirk grows over his face as you adjust the jacket over your shoulders.

“...And it worked, didn’t it?”

—

reblogs and feedback are extremely (I cannot stress this enough) appreciated!!

triple frontier taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mystinky-butt @anightshift @whatthefishh @alexxavicry @grxywindd @campingwiththecharmings @mintgreen24 @dameronshandholder @spider-starry @jakecockley @cocodiem @spxctorsslxt @luxisluxurious @dowbastan

[beawhatchumean]

BOOM! IT'S FINISHED!!

after so long, it finally done and dusted and ready for public release :3c

LMK SIX EAR MACAQUE SHIMEJI VER 1.0!!

Just click on the big words and ya can download, ye :D

Contains 2 zipfiles: The normal version and less frames version

Read down below for explanations on that

if got any problems launching and stuff, dont be afraid to message me, i'll try to help ya out :>

but as seen in the quick lil poster i made there, it says extra animation + more more info about that underneath the read 👇

from the top,

EXTRA ANIMATION

Same like the SWK Shimeji, this one is has unique frames for each action of the Shimeji. best example is the walk, run, dash actions seen below

there are other actions that have unique frames like these, you are free to explore them :>

CUSTOM ACTION NAME

There are a few actions renamed in the shimeji code. Here is a guide for what they do:

Take Out Lantern = Mac takes out his lantern and admires it

Create Clone = Shimeji breeding 1

Visit Shadow = Shimeji breeding 2

disclaimer, I plan on making a full action guide list in the future so you can much easier reference what each action does :>, so stay tune when that happens

CUSTOM ACTION

Just like SWK, you may pet the Macaque!! >:3c give the lil bugger all the love he deserves~ (credit to Kilkakon for the original script)

as seen in this gif :3

Steps to do this action is as followed:

Make the shimeji sit down (any surface is okay, ie work floor/window top)

Move the cursor to the shimeji's head

Make sure it is a hand cursor and not an arrow cursor

Pet away!!

If you want to pick up the shimeji without prompting the pet action, just move the cursor lower until it turns into the arrow icon

NON-SYMMETRICAL SHIMEJI

One more thing that causes this to be my fav Shimeji so far. HE HAS NON-SYMMETRICAL FRAMES. Meaning his black sleeve stay on his left, while yellow stay on his right.

To do this, Mackie needed much more frames compared to SWK, which might cause him to lag on some devices. Hence why I prepared 2 versions of Mackie here. One with symmetry and one with none

PLEASE DOWNLOAD THE LESS FRAME VERSION TO NOT FRY YOUR PC'S!!

UPDATES WILL HAPPEN!!

just like SWK, this is version 1.0

updates will happen and I am at work working on the next csutom action. But it will not come out anytime soon since it requires me to draw a bunch of more frames again hhhh

BUT DO STAY TUNED >:3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

but for now that will be all for ver. 1.0

many thanks to anyone interested in this project and of course

BIGGEST THANKS TO THOSE THAT HELPED BETA TEST THEM

for privacy reason they shall stay anonymous but

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ >:3

PLUS EVEN MORE HEARTS!! ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

[elvenbeard]

Old and Happy

😭 my feels have been all over the place since I finally finished this! Don't even remember when I started, as I kept working on and off on it over a couple of months. But I think it was after writing something particularly angsty and going "you know what, they will get their happy ending though, so it's all good".

Some details and thoughts below the read more cause it got long hhhh ;A;

This is in about 2087 maybe, roughly "ten years later". Vince changed his hair, ditched the rattail for good (or again xD) for something still colorful but a bit more easy to style. But he might change it up again, he's done so repeatedly and still likes to experiment with his hair.

Not visible, he probably would've added some elements to his back tattoo after surviving all of 2077. Johnny's tattoo he covered up as well, he would've done that first probably before the back piece. Adding some things here and there over time, with colors and patterns and wings, some cherry blossoms ('cause a thing of beauty will never truly fade away - hence just not getting laser removal but covering it with something that suits him more, but keeping some elements like the J and V visible). It started with three roses below the "V" as a little homage to Jackie, and 2077 as the year that finally put him on the right track in his life, even if it almost killed him in the process.

Overall he is a healthier weight than he was for most of his life, and finally got some therapy he desperately needed to deal with all the crap he went through pre-2077 already. He's not dyeing his first grey hairs because hell, that he's even still around to get some is amazing with his line of work and life story. And he realized that there's no need to be super well put togeher 24/7, clean shaven and whatnot, when you know you're just gonna be hanging out with your man and cat all weekend (and actually allowing yourself to something like that - leisure time and pizza in bed, unheard of to 2077!Vince). He's doing good and feels good and comfortable, physically and mentally.

Kerry also changed, also embracing the dad bod over abs, probably still experimenting with his looks a lot now and then whenever the label feels like they need to draw attention to him for whatever reason. But to the brown eyes he returned in 2078 already in my headcanon for the Sun ending timeline, and he stuck with them.

Overall I think he might finally care a little less about other people's opinions too, the buzz and the drama, cause he knows that at the end of the day there's always gonna be someone waiting for him at home who loves him unconditionally. He's a bit calmer and at ease, but of course still up to no good whenever he gets the chance to stir shit up xD Vince and him remain to be a dangerous duo you don't wanna mess with. At that point Vince is a well-respected, even if somewhat elusive, fixer, so he's probably even more dangerous now than he used to be as a mere merc with an arsenal of connections and resources at his disposal that can almost rival Kerry's.

I also gave Kerry a lil new cyberware piece on his hand - he is an old man and I think, using his hands as a musician on the daily, at some point there's just gonna be some wear and tear to your bones and joints only tech can fix anymore... Especially if you're stubborn and refuse to retire cause no, you're not done yet, you still have so much to yell into the world and music to make, stuff to add to your legacy and all.

Last but not least: Nibbles is an old lady already as well here, but living her best life with her dads spoiling her rotten, of course!

And then öalkshjdfagsdföasgdfaösfh ;___;

Y'know, "to bad decisions" and all, and two very different pieces still fitting together perfectly somehow, and light and shadows, and the sun and moon and yeah. ;___; Brb crying, the feels are back xD

Thanks so much for reading if you made it this far!! They mean so much to me and aösdjhfajsfhasfk could go on forever about every little detail xD On to the next drawing!

[koroart]

You ever think about what would happen if your Lambert meet Canon Dimitri in Azure moon, seeing what happens during the post time skip?

You have no idea of the beast you just unleashed, my friend.

I though about this scenario SO MUCH -- Like, how it would happen idk, maybe some weird kinda magic that transported Lambert himself to an alternate timeline ( in this case the canon timeline ) and him meeting Dimitri just --- HHHH ( under read more because I'm insane for this )

He would instantly know that's his boy -- because what parent wouldn't recognize their own child? And he feels his heart hurting for him because, he can see how haunted his boy is, how the guilt he felt weights heavy on his mind.

And Dimitri, and it's either Feral!Dimitri or Post-Gronder Dimitri, take your pick - tired and thinking it's Lambert’s phantom, just pleading at him to leave him be. And when he realizes Lambert is more solid and isn't screaming at him for blood and vengeance, Dimitri will probably lash out just "NO, YOU'RE NOT REAL!!!" Maybe even actively tries to harm Lambert, calling him an imposter, maybe thinking he's an Imperial soldier trying to get the hit on him. Enraged and saying how DARE YOU IMPERSONATE MY FATHER!!

But Lambert would never dare raise a hand to his child, but he does stop Dimitri from attacking him, trying to help him calm down and realize that he is real, that he's here.

When Dimitri is calm enough, Lambert would just reach up and cup his face, tilting his head up so that he may look into his eyes, or eye in this case - eyes that once shined so brightly with hope and childlike wonder. Dimitri would look into Lambert’s, he does not see pity in those blue eyes so much like his own, he sees worry and love -- and for a moment, the cries in his head are silent as his rage subsides and the realization that his father is here sinks in.

Lambert would smooth back Dimitri's hair, like he used to when Dimitri was just a child, comforting and warm -- and say with such sadness and love in his deep voice--

" What has happened to you, my Sun and Stars?"

That's Dimitri's breaking point. The cry that escapes him is reminiscent of that of a wounded animal, and he all but falls into his father's arms. Suddenly he's a boy again, he's that 13 year old boy who watched his father die in front of him and there was nothing he could have done to save him. He's no longer the man who was out for revenge for the dead or the battle weary prince. He's just a boy again, a boy who missed his father.

The air is filled with Dimitri's anguished howls, and he's clinging to Lambert like his life depended on it. Lambert just holds him back, just as tightly, his own eyes filled with tears as he listened to his son's wailing. The goddess herself can not make him let go of his only and most precious son.

Dimitri probably cries for a long time, not that Lambert would mind, he'd hold him forever if he has to.

I think eventually they would talk, and Lambert, I feel, would speak some sense to Dimitri -- he doesn't want his son to tread down this path any further than he has to. He has no obligation to the dead -- because they're dead and that Dimitri needed to live for himself and their people. It's a realization that Lambert’s himself finally began to grasp too. Dimitri would give one of those soft and sobbing laughs, saying how Rodrigue had said the same thing before he died ( Lambert’s heart breaks at that news...he thinks of his Rodrigue back in his own timeline, who's alive and well and probably worried sick )

Lambert probably blames himself a lot for the mindset Dimitri had developed-- because he too believed that he was a tool for the Kingdom, that his life was not his own because of his position as King ( mentioned in Dimitri’s supports with Gilbert/Gustave! ) and he probably would apologize so much to Dimitri.

Apologizes for being that bad example and for leaving him behind in this timeline, at least.

Dimitri would probably say that he should have done more to save Lambert and everyone and Lambert is the one to get into his head -- " You were just a boy, Mitya -- what could you have done?" Dimitri probably cries some more because god knows he needs a good cry.

They probably talk for a long time, sitting down in the empty and broken cathedral and Dimitri is holding Lambert’s hand tightly, unable to even bear an inch away from his father-- he needs that reminder that he's real and here. How long he's not sure, but part of Dimitri prays that it's forever.

And idk, maybe Lambert helps out a bit in the war effort ( after everyone gets over the fact that the former King of Faerghus is HERE?? WHAT THE FUCK?? They're all just looking at Dimitri like??? And Dimitri is just i dont fucking know either but im not complaining ) Lambert has to return to his timeline, how idk maybe he was just on a small time limit and sadly he and this Dimitri would have to part ways.

Dimitri, despite knowing this, shakingly pleads for his father to stay -- not to leave him alone again and that he missed him so much. Holding onto his father's hands tightly, even as he can feel Lambert fading away --

Lambert would smile at his son, warm and fatherly, just as Dimitri remembers and they hug again. Lambert telling Dimitri that he's sorry for leaving again and that he wished he could have been a better father for him in this time -- Dimitri saying that's not true and that he should have been a better son.

And Lambert just -- *sobs* just holds Dimitri's face in his hands again and tells him, with so much love and warmth " You are more than I could have ever hoped for-- You, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, are my pride and joy. You are a leader, a hero, a king for our people. You embody every ideal we strive for...what more could a father ever ask for?"

He would kiss Dimitri's forehead and wipe away his tears, " My time with you was the greatest gift our Goddess could bestow upon me. I will always cherish you, Dimitri, cherish you beyond imagining." ( everyone in the bg is probably crying or trying not to, I know I'd be sobbing my eyes out )

Dimitri is crying but he's smiling, even as he can feel his father's visage fading and even as Lambert fades -- he still says to Dimitri--

"Now go forth from here and use your wisdom and your strength for our people, for the world. Be brave, loving, and compassionate - be the King you and I both know you are." Lambert chuckles for a moment, bright and maybe even a little mischievous, " And have a little fun while you're at it~"

Dimitri, with a shaky and tearful smile says. " I love you, Father...I love you so much!"

" And I love you, Dimitri. I will always love you..."

With a final smile, Lambert would fade from the canon timeline and return to his own.

Where, after telling everyone he is okay and all ( and making sure to give Rodrigue a big fat smooch) , he will find his Dimitri and hold his son close. He never wants to see the light fade away from his son's eyes, and he will do all be can to be a better example and live for both himself, his son, and his people.

[mrghostrat]

this will probably be incomprehensible but here we go

so when you posted the art for BNF chapter 5 I noticed Crowley's snake ring that he was wearing to the event and wondered if it was meant to be sort of a "placeholder" ring for his ace ring. but i wasn't sure if it was on the right hand because *mirrors*

but then I saw for your latest art you used yourself as a reference and included your ring! so I'm wondering if the snake ring was supposed to be a replacement for the ace ring so he didn't accidentally out himself at the event, which is something I've done before.

BNF5 art for ref

hhhh sorry man i’m just dumb. i actually added crowley’s snake ring in that drawing as a final last minute afterthought because his hands felt bare and i wanted to dress him up a little. i wear my ace ring 24/7 and completely forget it’s there so it didn’t even OCCUR to me in that moment to give him one 🤦🏻‍♀️

probably wouldn’t have drawn it at all if it weren’t for my own ring in the ref picture for that last drawing 😭

sometimes i get questions abt story and character stuff that i like to not answer, or keep vague, because it’s fun to let people interpret things their own ways. but this was such a neat way for you to read those details n i can’t for a second let you think i deserve credit for that LOL

[stormyweaver]

First Time For Everything || (Part 2/??)

NOTES: I'll add the title to my first part posted here, but I'm just so dang giddy to finally get chapter two up! No idea when I'll have the next part finished (I'm still figuring out where I wanna go with this little story) but I hope you enjoy this next installment!

TW: mess, brief mention of gore and potential contagion towards the end

“Hhhh? Ehh- hHEH!...” 

Vox’s frantic inhales stalled on the apex and, once again, the urge to sneeze fizzled out into a frustrated - and frankly exhausted exhale. 

It had been like this ever since he’d first started sneezing. He’d repeated the action a few more times on his walk with Alastor, and each one had been as equally full-bodied as the one preceding it. His torso ached all over, especially his chest and neck, not to even mention how dizzy the intense outbursts left his head. Not long after the sixth sneeze did Vox begin to try and actually stop what felt like an inevitable reaction, which had worked… somewhat. He’d managed to swallow down the urge enough to stop himself from performing the act of sneezing, but he’d done absolute jack-shit to stop himself from hitching and gasping like a fish flopping atop a sun-bleached deck. 

And every time he raised a hand to scrub - fruitlessly, might he add -at the center of his screen, Alastor’s amused snicker would cause his muscles to tense. His companion had no qualms about enjoying his palpable misery - he was probably soaking up the waves radiating off of him. Actually, he had no doubt that that was exactly what Alastor was doing. It seemed that the more Vox sniffled, coughed and groaned from his malady, the more Alastor appeared to perk up. Fucking energy vampire. 

As if speaking of the devil, Alastor released an inquisitive hum. “My my - I’m surprised you haven’t asphyxiated from all that gasping! Such a shame.” 

Cyan-tipped claws rose to press along the front of his throat, which he cleared several times in the hopes that it would somehow clear away the gunk lining his throat. At least enough for him to speak clearly. “I think you’d enjoy that a little too much.” 

Vox immediately winced after finishing his retort, and he could have sworn even Alastor appeared a bit surprised. He hadn’t done much… or any talking after the ‘discovery’ of his illness had taken place. Which in itself was odd but Vox had been too preoccupied sneezing or gearing up to a sneeze, or trying to stop sneezing to act as much of a conversationalist. 

However, he slightly regretted speaking now: his voice was downright awful, a raspy quality and his consonants were heavily muddled with congestion. That he had expected, but what really reinforced his sorry state was how it sounded as though he was speaking through a faulty speaker. Or an old timey radio…

The thought brought a small bit of amusement, but it was dashed when he realized that even Alastor somehow managed to sound good through shitty audio. He just sounded… well, sick. And broken. Vox scowled ahead. 

He would have kept walking had Alastor not whipped the length of his cane in front of him, causing Vox to flinch. “What’re–

“Ah, here we are!”

Brows furrowed, Vox finally looked up at the building they had stopped in front of. It appeared to be a diner of sorts. It wasn’t really all that distinguishable from other places he’d seen in Hell, besides having a more dated feel than some of the other areas in Pride Ring. But they were on the outskirts, near Cannibal Town, and after learning how frequently Alastor visited that particular area, it didn’t surprise him when they would wind up somewhere in the vicinity. 

The building’s exterior showed a few signs of age - chipped paint here and there, but otherwise it just looked older versus not having been taken care of. The brickwork was still in fairly good condition, besides some moss growing along the left lower corner. There were two baskets of flora hanging on each side of the entrance/exit, but they appeared slightly wilted - from either lack of care or by design, Vox couldn’t be sure. It had a small awning just above the doors, with the name Devil’s Diner in a scrawl that Vox found a little… well not tacky but, just not one he would have chosen for an eatery.

It struck Vox as a decent place overall, just from a different time period. Well kept, while a little tattered in seemingly all the right places. Yeah, now it made sense why Alastor wanted to go here. 

Once they were inside and seated, Vox groaned as he lowered himself down. He was thankful to just be off his feet, what with the long walk they had made just getting to this place. His head still felt like it was filled with a bag of wet sand, and his hearing was slightly obscured from a sudden, but dull ringing. 

“... and I don’t say this lightly, but the bread pudding is absolutely to die for, hah hah– Vox?” 

The sound of something tapping rather firmly onto the floor finally brought Vox out of his lethargy, just in time to see Alastor returning his cane to where-the-fuck-ever in a puff of crimson smoke. He then proceeded to lean so far forward in his seat that Vox was surprised he managed to avoid falling onto the table between them. “Dear me, you truly are unwell, aren’t you?” Vox attempted to mirror Alastor’s smile, though it fell short of being a perfect copy by a mile. “It’s probably just a twenty-four hour bug, nothing to worry about.” Though Alastor’s tone might have conveyed sympathetic to anyone else, Vox had a hunch it leaned more into the ‘Your misery is palpable and I’m loving every second of it’ territory. Actually, he was certain of it. Jesus Christ, had he really analyzed Alastor so much over their time together? Then again, it wasn’t as though he made it easy - it was that damned smile. 

It never left Alastor’s face, no matter what he was doing or saying, an unnerving fact he’d learned after watching him maim one soul so ignorant as to roughly shove past Alastor while muttering expletives under his breath. The same breath had soon begun begging for mercy before his guts were splayed all over the sidewalk. This had been early into their acquaintance-ship, and Vox still had shivers whenever they passed by the same spot. 

It wasn’t really the actual gore or violence, but the fact that Alastor had been grinning throughout the entire thing. As if he– no, he definitely did enjoy it. An “artform”, a term he’d heard the other use on more than one occasion. An artform. He’d never associated murder or even run-of-the-mill violence with “art”. Then again, there was nothing even remotely typical about the way Alastor operated. Not even a little. 

So occupied with his thoughts, he’d barely even noticed when their waiter arrived, giving a sharp start before attempting to appear more put-together than he felt. Alastor ordered first, thankfully; though the relief was short-lived, Alastor stated his choice as though he’d gotten the same combination hundreds of times. Which, in hindsight, was quite possibly the case. 

When the waiter - a one-eyed Hellian who resembled more of a blob than any even remotely human-form - turned to Vox, it suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t even taken a glance at the menu. He felt so exhausted, and the mere thought of food had his stomach gurgling. Apparently his digestive system was protesting the questionable eggs and toast, and the idea of piling something from a place he’d never eaten from or heard of before on top of that was out of the question. 

Regardless, he ordered a simple burger and some fries, along with a soft drink. It had been the first thing that didn’t look complicated, and hopefully the bubbles from the drink would help settle his gut. Plus, he could manage to down a few bites of a burger, enough that he wouldn’t appear so unwell that his appetite was as shot as it genuinely was.

Wait- why did he care about how his plate looked? Was it the chance that Alastor would make yet another remark? ‘You’ve hardly touched your plate, dear!’ Oh, he could just hear it now. As if the knowledge that he was unwell didn’t already make Vox want to crawl out of his skin. He hated feeling weak, under any circumstances - but especially under the ones he had zero control over. 

And to have Alastor poking and prodding every time he so much as sniffled was beginning to grow a bit old. Fast. As if reading his thoughts, Alastor’s chipper-as-ever voice caught his attention once again. 

“Do you have a wire loose, or something to that effect? I dare-say I haven’t ever seen your antennae so active.” Alastor’s grin only widened when Vox grimaced. Shit. Catching his reflection in the window they were seated beside, he could see a rather intense surge of electricity crackling along and between his antennae. He took a deep breath - equally as crackling, and soaked with congestion - before half-coughing it out into his elbow. “It’s… nothing, just a glitch.” 

Damn it all, why did his body insist on betraying his fucking thoughts? Was nothing sacred? Oh wait, it wasn’t, as he often needed to remind himself. It’s Hell. 

So akin to a shark sensing blood in the water, Alastor pounced. “Certain of that, hm? Perhaps it’s a side effect - you are so ill, after all.” The emphasis on ‘so’ caused another surge of electricity, and Vox’s already taught spine felt a shudder travel down it from both frustration and… something else. Something vaguely familiar, irritating and– “I can assure you, Alastor, it’s just… jhhhust…?” Oh fuck, not again - not here, in this fucking ancient diner that was somehow PACKED as if to spite him. Alastor clocked onto Vox’s predicament rather quickly, as if bringing a fist to the middle of his screen wasn’t enough of a dead give-away. 

The sensation still grew, despite the fact that Vox could feel the intense pressure of his knuckles all but grinding against his screen. It was somehow fuzzing around every single inch of his head, and simultaneously completely out of reach to actually scratch. He sniffed, which sounded far more damp than Vox had been intending for it to, before attempting to speak again - only to have his breathing hijacked with a double-gasp. 

“It’s j-just… Ahh– hehh!”

“I do believe we got to that part, but I’m just itching to know the rest!” 

Mother of Fucking Christ, he was going to short-circuit on the spot. There was no point in trying to finish again, not with his systems so preoccupied. Fuck, fine, just get it over with. Vox eased the pressure on his screen, before relinquishing his fist to hang in the air before mouth, which was stuck gaping as he gasped again - then again, his body finally beginning to do what it needed to. “Ahhh’hah…! hehh’hih’EHhh–!!... hh… hhgh?” 

Vox’s lips formed an open-mouthed frown, his brow furrowed from more than just the prickling irritation. Which, while still prominent, seemed to stall just on the apex breath. Another sniffle, another bout of hitching that… also failed to result in a sneeze. Vox released an unsteady exhale that mingled with an exasperated groan. 

Seriously?! He was finally ready to sneeze, and his body decided to fucking bail on him? What the literal Hell?

It only occurred on another failed attempt at sneezing that Vox had technically brought this on himself. He’d been fighting the urge to sneeze ever since his initial outbursts. He was so hellbent on not sneezing due to the discomfort and, frankly embarrassment it caused that he’d put up a mental block around even the thought of it. And now that he actually wanted to, really, desperately needed to sneeze out the infernal itch, his body was simply listening to what he’d demanded from it earlier. He wasn't going to sneeze. 

He wanted to cry. 

As it was, he could feel saline welling in the corners of his eyes, which were swiped away with a vicious, frantic sniffle. Before Alastor could open his mouth, he gasped out an airy, “I’m fine!” which decidedly did not signify that he was anything even in the ball-park of being ‘fine’.

He heard Alastor chuckle, and was spared the ol’ reliable of his smile with his tearing eyes wrenched shut. But Vox could still feel it, in every single receptor and nerve, it seemed to dig right beneath his skin. 

“Oh yes, you’re the absolute epitome of ‘fine’. And ‘good health’ while we’re at it!” The only semblance of a response Vox could give was to cough in irritation; he was thoroughly occupied with the incompetence of his own body. And though it wasn’t obvious to him, Alastor’s patience had quickly reached it's limit. 

The Overlord rolled his eyes and, unbeknownst to Vox, opted to take matters into his own hands. 

Tear-soaked eyes had barely squinted open before Vox caught sight of Alastor's gloved hand in front of him, just a few inches shy of actually touching him but close enough to cause a start. The sensation stalled, but not for very long: a ripple of some kind of... energy traveled along the short space between them. And the irritating sensation seemed to double- no, triple in strength and intensity, and for a brief moment Vox thought he might be feeling something akin to pain. 

But no, it wasn’t quite pain. Just the overwhelming, agonizing, all-consuming urge finally, finally tipping over the edge–

“h’EAASCHHH!!!” The first of many, he reckoned, if the steadily rising pressure inside of his head was anything to go by. There was barely a gasp before his body truly let him have it.

“eh’AKK’TZZSCHH! heh’IZZSCH! EH’TZZT’HIEW! Eh’KZSCH! Eh’KZCH!...” 

On and on, rapid, intense sneezes tumbling out in a frenzied heap, one right on the heels of the other. Vox couldn’t ever recall having sneezed so much in his life. And apparently he was going for setting a record as far as his afterlife was concerned. 

“Hh–! EH’TZZT! H’uuhh’ohh f-fuck-” Though thoroughly unable to focus on anything other than sneezing the now worsened irritation - fucking Alastor - out of his system, Vox winced as he felt the collar of his turtleneck become decidedly… damp. 

His ports were- oh Satan’s balls, they were leaking?!

Hissing out another sneeze, a hand immediately flew to his mouth. Thus far the fit had been far too rapid, too intense for his conscious mind to think of covering. Not that the action did much, considering it was his ports leaking - though he could also detect a hint of salivation trailing from one corner of his mouth. 

“Oh for goodness sake.” he heard Alastor mutter. 

In the brief pause where Vox could only pant and anticipate the next flurry of sneezes, he winced as something smacked him in the face. Well, not so much ‘smacked’ as it was tossed, and upon feeling the silken material of the object, snatched at it and pressed it to the lower half of his face. 

“You look an absolute sight,” his companion began, with zero concealment of his disgust, “If you’re not even going to bother properly covering, you can at least–”

“eh’GXT’SCHHIEW!”

“Gesundheit. You can at least have the decency to–”

“hhH’ZZSSCHH! eh’KZZCHH’hue! Kff–!”

“Gesundheit. Mm, perhaps it would be wise to wait until you’re finished with this little display.” 

“hh’RR’ZZZSCHH!!!” 

Alastor’s ears twitched back in response to the rather harsh, static-charged sound. Even Vox's body winced in discomfort from the feedback. “Goodness. If you ever do finish, that is.” 

Sniffling pathetically, Vox managed to smother another trio of smaller, yet equally exhausted-sounding sneezes into the handkerchief. Or, was it a napkin? He couldn’t imagine Alastor sacrificing his napkin to serve as a snot-rag, so maybe he was just soiling his own. 

Whatever. At least it provided some kind of shield between this awful cold and everyone else. 

As if he truly gave a fuck if he was contagious. Though that did call to mind a question that had been gnawing at him ever since he’d even realized he was unwell:  Could he spread this to anyone else? More specifically - to Alastor?

It seemed so out of the realm of possibility. But, in theory, he supposed it would make sense: while Vox outwardly appeared to be mechanically comprised, and certain, obvious parts were, his body still housed organic parts. 

He’d found that out the hard way, once. It was still rather jarring to think about how he’d gaped in horror at his own intestines, but they pulsated and ached and appeared just like anyone else’s. He had a heartbeat, a brain that was… probably made of gray matter. Probably. 

And he was able to catch a cold. So it stood to reason that he could spread that cold to just about anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in the crossfire of a sneeze or cough. 

Including Alastor. 

Vox took his time in trying to make himself look at least semi-presentable again, mopping up his mouth and dabbing at his eyes before reluctantly moving to his neck. Though when he caught Alastor’s expectant expression, he sniffled thickly before speaking.

“Sndf! I… I think it’s over.” His weary gaze gave way to irritation, “You could have at least warned me before pulling a stunt like that, y’know.” 

Alastor appeared insulted, scoffing. “I suppose that’s the last time I lend you my generosity, then! It’s certainly not my fault that your system is so terribly faulty.” 

“I was perfectly fine before you decided to mess with me out of nowhere!”

“Oh yes, huffing and gasping as though you were in some amateur erotica - surely I should have let you continue on in all your obscenity! Ridiculous,” Alastor’s upper lip snagged in obvious disdain, a gloved finger gliding down his own neck, “You’re still leaking.” 

Vox’s fans kicked into overdrive. “Oh, for fuck’s sake–”