#I think they might have looked better before adding all the shine. BUT I kind of like both. Maybe I should make two more that aren't shiny

[lucalicatteart]

A few silly little small sculptures that I made with some of the leftover clay from the main one I did recently

[pearynice]

Steve is too drunk. Because he doesn’t get drunk anymore. Not since-

But he’s drunk now. Because he’s sad, and acting pathetic, and thus getting fucking wasted at a high school party for a school he graduated from back in the spring sounded like the thing to do.

Because he’s fucking pitiful.

It’s not Robin’s fault. She’d dragged him here, sure, but he’d assured her- promised her- that he’d be fine. That she should leave with her other friends. Because she deserves to hang out with people who aren’t just him. To have a tiny slice of her life be normal.

He takes another sip of his drink, because he doesn’t want to think about normal, anymore. He just wants to- wants-

He doesn’t know what he wants.

“Harrington?”

Blearily, he looks up, and a guy he vaguely recognizes is standing above him.

Steve hiccups.

“Eddie,” the guy says, pointing to himself. “Doin’ okay?”

Now, Steve remembers him. He does that fantasy game Dustin likes so much. “Munson,” he says, and Eddie grins at him.

“That’s me.”

Steve hiccups again, and takes another sip of his drink.

“Where’d your friend go? The band girl?” Eddie inches closer, his Reeboks now inches from Steve’s fingertips.

Steve gestures vaguely with his beer bottle. He takes another sip, and frowns at the empty bottle. He really doesn’t want to have to go back into the house for another.

He’s still staring at it when Eddie sits next to him. 

“Cigarette?” Eddie offers. “Maybe that’s better than another drink, hm?”

Steve watches him pull out a crumpled pack from his back pocket, shaking out two.

He hands one to Steve.

The cigarettes are kind of smashed, but Eddie lights both of them up, and the smoke clears Steve’s head slightly.

“Thanks.”

Eddie shrugs.

Steve’s hands and mouth feel staticky and disjointed as he pulls the cigarette to his mouth, the effects of the multiple drinks he’s had finally making themselves known. His mouth tastes stale and puffy, and the reality of getting drunk- alone at a high school party- sours in his chest.

He groans, dropping his head into his free hand.

“Oh fuck,” Eddie mumbles, “you’re not- Harrington, if you’re about to puke, man, you gotta let me know, cause I can’t handle that shit.”

Steve, despite his wave of mortification, snorts a laugh. He might be pathetic, but he’s not about to stoop as low as hurling on the back porch. “Not gonna puke.” He promises, lifting his head back up to look out across the back lawn.“I just… can’t understand my own choices, sometimes,” he continues, quiet, chewing on his bottom lip. He takes another drag, his tongue feeling heavy and uncoordinated.

“I mean,” he begins again, exhaling a cloud of smoke and gesturing vaguely to himself, “talk about fucking embarrassing.”

Eddie’s quiet again, and nerves of a different sort begin to eat at him. Steve always shares too much, especially when he’s drunk, loose lips and all that. They’ve never spoken, really, and Eddie has more reason to hate him than most- Steve knows the basketball team was cruel to him, knows Carol and Tommy had to’ve been, too, knows this guy’s sympathy can only stretch so far before Steve snaps it-

“I gotta repeat senior year.” Eddie blurts. He’s looking down at his Reeboks, scuffed and dirty, eyes trained on the glowing embers of his burning cigarette. “Again.”

“Fuck, dude.” Steve exhales, “that sucks.”

Eddie snorts, lips twitching, and his shoulders relax as he leans back on one arm. Steve can see most of a tattoo there, some creepy puppet thing that shifts over his flexing muscle. “Yeah, well, sounds like maybe we’re both fuck-ups.” Eddie blows out a puff of smoke, and Steve watches as he does, his lips shining against the porch light. 

“I don’t think you’re a fuck up.” Steve says, then catches himself. “I mean-” he starts, backpedaling at once, nerves collecting at the base of his skull, “fuck high school. You know?” 

Eddie’s eyes, big and dark, watch him, crinkling slightly at the corners as Steve stutters through his addendum.

“You’ll know the kids I babysit,” Steve adds, a non sequitur that causes Eddie’s eyes to crinkle further. “They do that sci-fi game you run.”

Eddie dips into Steve’s space, his face scrunched in amusement. “Sci-fi game? Are you, Steve Harrington, referring to Dungeons and Dragons?”

For some reason, the way Eddie says it makes Steve flush. “Yes.”

“Steve Harrington.” Eddie says again, and Steve can smell the nicotine in his breath, can see his eyelashes despite the dark, and he knows he should shift away, out of Eddie’s personal space, but Eddie’s eyes are on him. And his shoes are close to Steve’s, and Steve’s still thinking about that creepy tattoo on Eddie’s forearm. He wants to know what it is. What it means.

“Look out for ‘em, okay?” Steve manages, the nagging worry about his little dweebs starting high school cutting through. “They’re, um…” he trails off, unsure. “I think they’ll need it.”

Eddie eyes him again, more considering, now, than humorous. 

“‘Course, Steve.” He agrees, and his tone is soft. “I’ll be their big bad protector.”

It shouldn’t feel as comforting as it does. He doesn’t know Eddie. And what he does know is that he sells a lot worse than weed behind the school, and yet-

And yet Eddie’s smiling at him. Warm and friendly and something like kind- and Steve- Steve thinks he might trust him, anyways. 

“Harrington?”

It’s a different voice that says his name, this time. Steve turns, squinting against the light from the house, and a stone forms in his gut.

Eddie starts, pulling up from his relaxed position to bring his arms to his sides.

“Carver,” Steve greets, with a nod. He takes another drag, hoping his tone reads as dismissive as he intends.

He must miss his mark because Jason comes closer. 

“Am I interrupting?” Jason kicks a black lunchbox by Eddie’s side, not far, but far enough that it’s no longer within Eddie’s reach. “Needed to make sure you’re not ripping off my friend, here, freak.”

Steve’s gut churns. “It’s all good, man.” He’s still trying to sound friendly, doesn’t want to start something, especially not now, five beers deep and in the dark, but Jason’s still staring at Eddie, that wicked smile still on his face. “Eddie’s not ripping me off.”

But Jason takes another step towards the two of them. “Well, it’s always good to take preventative measures, Harrington.” Jason grins, gaze flicking to Steve, and Steve knows that smile. Has seen it far too many times from people like Carver. Like Tommy. The look that’s asking him to join in on the fun.

Steve stands. He feels unsteady, and his head spins, but he doesn’t sway.

Even here, a step below Jason, Steve’s taller than him. “I said we’re good.” He drops his voice, verging on threatening, taking a half step towards Eddie to block as much of Jason’s gaze from him as he can. “Go back to the party.” 

Jason’s eyes find his once again. He narrows them, like he’s assessing just how big of a threat Steve really is. Jason’s shoulders tense. His jaw muscles flex and Steve balls his fists at his sides, ready, ready-

Jason smiles. “Right.” He says, and takes a half step away. His cold smile is directed as Steve, now, and he clicks his tongue. “See you around, Harrington.”

The porch door closes behind him, and Steve exhales. Unclenches his fists. He walks over to Eddie’s lunch box.

“Thanks,” Eddie murmurs, when Steve hands it to him. He’s not looking at Steve, but he’s white-knuckling the box, now, his elbows locked in against his sides.

Steve, a little sloppily, sits back down next to him. “Sorry.” He offers, and Eddie looks back up. 

Steve smiles a little, goes for reassuring, dipping back into Eddie’s space. “He’s always been an ass.”

Eddie’s lips twitch. “Don’t know why you think those kids need me, Steve. Looks like you’re a big bad protector all on your own.” His smile turns tentative. “Even for someone you barely know.”

And Steve- Steve’s never been one to think things through. Not when it comes to feelings and relationships and the giddy feeling he gets in his chest and in his gut when someone he likes smiles at him. He dives in head first without thought to consequences or repercussions or any what ifs- and Eddie’s smiling at him. And there’s pop rocks in Steve’s chest. And he thinks, maybe, there’s pop rocks in Eddie’s chest, too. 

Steve nudges his foot forward. Knocks it against Eddie’s. “Wouldn’t let him mess with you. That’s not-“

Not who I am. Not who I want to be. It’s the person I’m trying so hard to grow out of. 

“-what I’d let happen. Anymore.”

He knows it’s not enough. That standing up to Jason goddamn Carver doesn’t make up for Steve’s lifetime of sitting on the sidelines, of letting people like Eddie- of letting Eddie- get teased and pushed and worse and so much worse, but it’s something. It’s something, and Robin’s always telling him to forgive himself. 

And Steve’s pretty sure he’s not imagining it when he sees a blush on Eddie’s cheeks. Rosy against the yellow light of what’s emanating from inside the house, and he’s definitely not imagining it when he feels Eddie’s foot tap against his.

“You should probably get out of here.” Steve adds, and jerks his head to the house. “Don’t want to give him another opportunity to come back.”

Eddie pulls his foot away. “Right.” He says. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” But Eddie feels tense again, feels like he’s moving much more away than just his shoe. 

“D’you think-” Steve hedges, and he risks sounding more pathetic, because he doesn’t want Eddie to move away, not his shoes or his eyes or his anything else, and Steve was planning on walking, it’s 15 minutes tops, but- “think you could give me a ride? Robin’s friend drove us here.” He crawls his hand forward, just a little. Just enough for Eddie to see. 

Eddie’s eyes flick to his hand. And when he meets Steve’s gaze again he’s smiling, a little, his eyes crinkling. “Sure, Stevie.”

✨✨✨

Truly- I don't know what this is? Let me know if it's worth a part 2!

Part 2

[favefandomimagines]

You’re on Your Own Kid (a.b)

Summary: all it takes is a bee sting for Anthony to finally tell you his true feelings

AN; inspired by the scene in season 2 when Kate gets stung by the bee

Also: the prompt is #11 on my prompt list! Requested by @shadowsoundeffects13

The warm summer breeze of the new social season swept across the Bridgerton estate, carrying the faint aroma of blooming wisteria. Y/N, an old family friend of the Bridgertons, had spent countless summers here, her laughter echoing through the halls alongside the Bridgerton children. However, this season felt different—more weighted, more final.

For two years, Y/N had been out in society, harboring a quiet hope that Anthony Bridgerton, Viscount and eldest of the Bridgerton siblings, might look past their friendship and see her as more. But Anthony, ever the dutiful head of the family, was determined to find a wife who could provide a future for his lineage, not complicate his already tumultuous emotions.

Determined to move on, Y/N resolved to find a husband this season. At Lady Danbury’s ball, she met Lord William Hartley, a handsome, charming man who seemed genuinely interested in her. He had called on her several times since, and though she couldn’t ignore the tug of her heart toward Anthony, Y/N knew she couldn’t wait for a love that might never come.

Y/N was speaking with Daphne and Violet, the sun shining down on them, when Simon and Anthony joined them.

“And what might you ladies be discussing?” Simon asked, stopping next to Daphne. “We were just discussing Y/N’s courtship with Lord Hartley. He sent rather expensive flowers to both Y/N and Lady Y/L/N.” Daphne explained.

“Lord Hartley?” Anthony questioned. “He filled her entire dance card at Lady Rutledge’s ball on Friday. He is such a kind man. And Y/N is quite taken with him.” Daphne added. A blush rose on Y/N’s cheeks upon hearing Daphne recount her courtship with Lord Hartley.

“I think he could propose within the week.” Daphne added. “My lady’s maid may have mentioned that Lord Hartley spoke with my father in his study recently.” Y/N spoke.

Anthony’s jaw tensed at the woman’s words. He never thought he could lose Y/N to another man, he seems to have taken her presence and her friendship for granted until it was threatened to be taken away.

“Anthony, why don’t you promenade with Miss Y/L/N while we await Lord Hartley’s arrival. A few other suitors have been eyeing her since we’ve arrived.” Violet suggested.

“Of course, mother. Y/N?” Anthony replied. Anthony offered his arm, and Y/N hesitated for just a moment before slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow. His warmth was familiar, but it felt different now, almost as if the contact held a weight neither of them dared to name.

For the first few minutes, they walked in comfortable silence, the gravel crunching beneath their feet. Birds chirped in the distance, their melodies the only sound other than the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Finally, Y/N broke the silence. “Have you found any young ladies this season who you think might make a suitable wife?” Her tone was light, but there was a subtle undercurrent of tension.

Anthony glanced at her, his lips twitching upward in a wry smile. “If I did, I’d have to get past their vicious mamas first. That alone is a task I am not eager to repeat.”

Y/N laughed, the sound as musical as the wind chimes hanging in the nearby pergola. Yet her laughter didn’t reach her eyes, and Anthony noticed. He always noticed.

“Well,” she replied, looking ahead, “you’d better find a way. You’ve made it quite clear that duty demands it.”

He stiffened slightly at her words, but he said nothing, letting the silence stretch between them.

When they reached a fork in the path, he stopped and turned to her. “What about you? Lord Hartley seems... determined.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm. “He’s kind, and he has been calling on me regularly.”

Anthony’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. “Do you like him?”

Y/N blinked at the question, caught off guard by its sharpness. “He’s charming and well-mannered. Why wouldn’t I?”

His gaze darkened, but his voice remained steady. “Don’t marry him.”

Her steps faltered, and she turned to face him fully. “What?”

“Don’t marry Hartley,” Anthony repeated, his tone more insistent.

Y/N frowned, confusion knitting her brows. “Why not? No one else is offering, Anthony. And I can hardly wait forever.”

He stepped closer, his presence commanding as always, but his expression was unreadable. “Because he’s not the husband you deserve.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “And who is the husband I deserve? Because I certainly do not see him anywhere.”

His silence was deafening.

Frustration bubbled up in her chest. “If not Lord Hartley, then who, Anthony? Who is this man that you believe is so perfect for me?”

Anthony’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “You deserve someone who will see you for the incredible woman you are. Someone who will put your happiness above all else.”

Her voice rose slightly, her emotions spilling over. “And where is this paragon of virtue? Because unless he’s hiding in these gardens, I’ve no idea where to find him.”

Their heated exchange was interrupted when Y/N suddenly winced, her hand flying to the side of her neck.

Anthony’s demeanor shifted instantly, his expression morphing from frustration to pure concern. “What is it? What happened?”

“I think I’ve been stung by a bee,” she said, wincing again.

Anthony froze, his face paling as his breathing quickened. His eyes darted to her neck, then back to her face, panic overtaking him.

“You need a doctor,” he said, his voice trembling. “Are you feeling faint? Is it hard to breathe?” He questioned, his hand coming to where her’s was.

Y/N, startled by his reaction, took a step closer to him, her free hand coming to his wrist. “Anthony, it’s just a bee sting. I’m fine.”

But he didn’t seem to hear her. His breathing grew shallower, and he muttered under his breath, “It’s happening again. I can’t— I can’t lose her.”

Realizing what was happening, Y/N gently cupped his face with her hands, forcing him to look at her. “Anthony, stop. Look at me. I’m fine. Nothing bad is happening to me. I’m here, and I’m okay.”

His dark eyes searched hers, desperate for reassurance. Slowly, her steady gaze calmed him, and he exhaled shakily, his shoulders relaxing.

“I cannot lose you,” he whispered, his voice raw. “Not you.”

Her heart ached at the vulnerability in his tone. “You won’t lose me, Anthony. I promise.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into her touch as if drawing strength from it. When he opened them again, there was a softness in his expression she had rarely seen.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he said quietly. “Weak. Broken. But I guess that’s what I am now.”

Y/N shook her head, her thumbs brushing against his cheekbones. “You’re not broken, and you’re not weak. You’re afraid. And there’s nothing broken or weak about being afraid.”

He let out a bitter laugh, his voice barely above a whisper. “The reason I don’t want you to marry Hartley… is because I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since we were children. But the thought of leaving you behind one day, like my father left my mother, was too much to bear.”

Her breath caught, tears welling in her eyes as a soft smile spread across her lips. “Anthony…”

He swallowed hard, his voice hoarse. “You deserve more than I can give you, but I can’t stand the thought of you with anyone else.”

Y/N’s smile grew, and she shook her head slightly. “Anthony, I’ve always loved you. But we cannot let fear stop us from living our lives. We deserve happiness, even if it comes with uncertainty.”

Anthony stared at her for a long moment before a tentative smile broke through his serious expression. “How did I ever deserve you?”

“You didn’t,” she teased gently, her eyes twinkling. “You’re just lucky I’ve always been a little foolish when it comes to you.”

He laughed, pulling her into an embrace, and for the first time in a long while, the weight on his shoulders felt lighter.

||

The sun shone brightly over Aubrey Hall on the day of Y/N and Anthony’s wedding, its golden rays dancing through the lush greenery and blooming flowers. The estate, which had been their playground as children, was now the backdrop to the most important day of their lives. Guests in vibrant attire filled the gardens, their laughter and chatter creating a symphony of joy.

Y/N stood in her bridal suite, her reflection staring back at her from the gilded mirror. Her gown was a masterpiece of ivory silk and lace, the intricate embroidery catching the light with every movement. Violet Bridgerton fussed with the veil, a motherly tenderness in her touch.

“You look radiant, my dear,” Violet said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Y/N smiled warmly, her nerves settling at the matriarch’s words. “Thank you, Violet. For everything.”

“Y/N, you have always been part of this family. And I am so proud of how far you’ve come.”

There was a knock at the door, and Daphne entered, her face alight with excitement. “It’s time,” she announced, her voice bubbling with energy.

Y/N took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched her bouquet of white roses and lavender. This was it—the moment she had dreamed of for so long.

Anthony stood at the altar, his heart racing as he awaited her arrival. He had always prided himself on his composure, but today, he felt like a young boy seeing his first sunrise—awed, humbled, and completely undone.

Benedict leaned in from his position beside him. “You look like you’re about to faint, brother. Don’t worry. If you topple over, I’ll catch you.”

Anthony shot him a half-hearted glare, but it melted away when the string quartet began to play. The guests turned in unison, their murmurs of appreciation a mere whisper compared to the pounding of Anthony’s heart.

And then, there she was.

Y/N appeared at the end of the aisle, her arm linked with her father’s. She was radiant, her smile bright enough to outshine the sun. Anthony’s breath caught as their eyes met, and in that moment, the world around them faded away. It was just her—his Y/N—and the overwhelming realization that she was about to be his wife.

Each step she took felt like an eternity and a blink, and when she finally reached him, Anthony extended his hand. Y/N placed hers in his, her touch grounding him in a way nothing else ever had.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“And you look like you’re about to faint,” she teased softly, her eyes sparkling.

Their laughter mingled as the officiant began the ceremony, weaving together words of love, commitment, and eternity. When the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, Anthony wasted no time, pulling her into a kiss that was both tender and fervent. The guests erupted into cheers, the sound carrying over the gardens as they sealed their union.

That evening, under a canopy of stars, the newlyweds danced their first dance as husband and wife. The world around them faded once more, the music a distant hum as they moved together in perfect harmony.

“You’re my wife now,” Anthony murmured, his forehead resting against hers.

“And you’re my husband,” Y/N replied, her smile wide. “You’re stuck with me forever, Viscount Bridgerton.”

He laughed, his hands tightening around her waist. “Forever doesn’t seem long enough, Viscountess Bridgerton.”

As the night wore on, they stole moments of quiet amidst the revelry, their hearts full and their future bright.

[blue-mood-blue]

I’ve grown to appreciate the aus where Shen Yuan enters the story as “Shen Yuan” - same name, probably similar face, generally able to interact with PIDW as himself and change the story through his added presence. I like the sense of “if only you’d been here, things might have been better the first time around” of it all.

And I was thinking, it’s a funny coincidence in that scenario that someone named Shen Yuan gets put into… another Shen Yuan. What are the chances? What a weird twist of fate that Airplane would pick out the name that his most dedicated critic could slip into seamlessly.

What about a version where it’s not coincidence at all?

Airplane goes to school with a kid named Shen Yuan. He’s prickly and hard to approach and a little intense, but Airplane is persistent. In fairness, Airplane is relentless - and maybe it’s a good thing that they end up being friends, because they’re a little too much for anyone else to handle. They balance each other out. They’re the “weird kids” in class and they’re okay with that, because even when they don’t have any words for it, they know they’re not like their classmates, not really. That’s okay; they don’t want to be.

Recesses and breaks are consumed with the elaborate stories that Airplane wants to tell, and all the holes Shen Yuan pokes into them. It’s not mean-spirited, though, even though Shen Yuan isn’t the kind to temper his words. It’s passionate. He cares about those stories the way Airplane cares about them, and it can’t be mistaken for anything else when they lean together conspiratorially across the lunchroom table. They’ve both got notebooks filled with details and characters and monsters. Shen Yuan’s practically got a whole bestiary sketched out in wobbly childhood attempts at art, entries fervently scrawled beside them. Airplane prattles out plots nonstop, always with the promise of shining eyes and being asked “what happens next?”

They come up with a whole world together. Airplane’s going to write about it someday. Shen Yuan is going to read every word.

Shen Yuan misses school. Shen Yuan starts missing school a lot.

Airplane goes to the hospital room instead. He doesn’t think to worry, because Shen Yuan is okay - that’s what he says. He looks okay, and he’s a kid, and it doesn’t feel real that anything bad should happen to a kid. He doesn’t think to worry. He doesn’t think to say goodbye.

It’s one of the older Shen brothers who catches him on the way up to the room one day, in the hallway just outside - snaps at him to go the fuck home, and when Airplane hesitates, pushes him into the elevator and tells him not to come back. “Tells” is a generous way to describe the way the words come out - a growl, a hiss, the sound an animal would make when a hand got too close to a wound.

(It’s not fair to name a villain after him, even if the name never really comes up in the story. He wasn’t trying to be mean. He’d lost a brother minutes before, and he was getting his brother’s friend out of the way so he didn’t have to… see. It isn’t fair, but then, none of it is fair.)

Death feels very real after that.

The notebooks get shoved into a closet, and it’s not until Airplane’s moving out and one falls on him from a high shelf that he thinks about it again. He’s written things, lots of things, but nothing as ambitious as this - nothing as important. It could be good, he considers. He’d promised. Shen Yuan wanted to read it.

The problem was that no one else does, not for a long time, not until Airplane has whittled himself and his art into a corner and into such an unfamiliar shape that he has to wonder how it’s still his own face he sees in the mirror. He has to eat. He has to pay rent. Shen Yuan would yell at him, but Shen Yuan isn’t there to yell at him, and who cares. Who cares if it could have been better? The people who actually are here love it, and it’s paying his bills, and sometimes stories don’t go the way they’re supposed to and the world is fucking unfair. It doesn’t matter.

(It does. But he shoves that thought away along with styrofoam cups and soda bottles to the bottom of a garbage bag.)

Authors are not gods and their power is limited, but Airplane exercises just a sliver of what he’s been granted and gifts an inconsequential sort of immortality. He thinks about making him a rogue cultivator, maybe the kind that goes around documenting beasts and compiling his findings. He thinks about making him someone too powerful for death to touch, or too important to threaten, but when Airplane looks at the world he crafted and everything that’s become of it, it feels like the kindest thing he can do for Shen Yuan is a childhood where he’s loved, and a death that’s peaceful. What does it say about that world, that he’d kill off his best friend too early again instead of making him live there?

(The best writing he ever does is the only, shining moment of humanity that his scum villain ever displays: a lament about death that comes too early, about a brother gone too soon. The commenters praise him. The commenters flatter over how real the emotions feel. The commenters don’t get any response from Airplane on that chapter.)

Death is incredibly real when it comes for him too early, too, still hovering over his keyboard with the story technically finished and incredibly incomplete. Airplane could tell himself that’s because the written version can never be the version in the writer’s head, always shifting and with every possibility still on the table, but he knows better than that. The System knows better than that, with its condescending message about “improving” his writing and “closing plot holes” and “achieving his original vision”...

…and he’s a child again. He’s a child in his own story, he’s Shang Qinghua now without the benefit yet of a peak or cultivation or anything, and maybe he’s a little bitter, and a little scared, and…

And Shen Yuan - with longer hair, with robes, with a couple of older kids watching him from across the street, but undeniably the prickly little boy who used to sit down imperiously across from him and tell him everything that was wrong with the chuck of writing that had been handed to him last period, but with that smile that said he was only invested because he knew it could be better and they were going to make it better - marches up to him with a fire in his eyes and a frown that warns of a coming tirade.

“You told it wrong,” is the first thing he says.

Shang Qinghua wants to ask how him how he’s here, how this is possible, or maybe laugh because, yeah - yeah, Shen Yuan has no goddamn idea how wrong he got absolutely everything.

(Shang Qinghua wants to say “I missed you” and “why did you leave so soon” but he’s here now. He’s right here.)

“I know,” he says instead. “I’m sorry. It all kind of… spiraled out of control.”

Shen Yuan frowns, but then it dissipates the way it always does, and his eyes shine with ideas the way they always used to. “That’s okay,” he relents, grabbing for his hand. “We’ll fix it. We’ll make it what it was supposed to be.”

[hawkins-losers]

yesss we want the elvira x eddie

This has been on my list since season 4 came out... Forgive me for writing it 2-3 years later (how long has it been since season 4 came out? Feels forever ago)

Happy spooky season! I miss writing for these characters

—

In girl world, Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it. 

Early in October, you decided to test the waters by making Eddie watch a movie with a character you had been thinking of dressing up as this Halloween. Witches were always your favorite, but you wanted to see his reaction first, see if he would like it. 

Although you doubted this character left any men unbothered.

Your dress was a little risqué, the deep plunging neckline making the girls shine. It took a few trials and errors to get the makeup right, but you finally got it and made your way to Eddie’s house. His jaw was going to drop. 

When he opened the door and saw the Mistress of the Dark standing there, he nearly choked. ‘’Jesus Christ," he breathed, the sight making blood rush south.

A smile of satisfaction bloomed on your lips. ‘’My appearance is kind of a shock to everybody.’’

Eddie quickly pulled you inside, not wishing for his perverted neighbor to use you as material to rub his cock and saggy balls. Those tits were his to stare at and touch and suck…and fuck.

‘’Are you trying to kill me looking like that?'' He lets out a low whistle as his gaze continues to roam over your figure. 

You leaned in closer, letting your voice drop to a sultry purr. ‘’I thought of wearing her spider bra with the tassels, but figured that might actually kill you on the spot.’’ 

Eddie’s eyes darkened, and a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. ‘’The spider bra?!’’ he repeated, vividly remembering the specific scene from the movie where Elvira wears it. ‘’Fuck.’’ 

‘’I even practiced the twirling she does with it,’’ you added, a wicked glint in your eyes.

Eddie groaned. ‘’I’m gonna have that image in my head all night…’’ He moved closer to you and gently placed his hands on your hips as he looked down at you, a smirk on his lips as he imagined you in the spider bra. ‘’Do we have to go to Harrington’s party?’’  

He would much rather stay here and have you to himself. The costume could stay on, he can work around that.

‘’Of course we do, we promised Steve we’d be there,’’ you said, taking Eddie’s hands off your body so he wouldn‘t try to convince you to stay in. ‘’And I told Robin I would help her with Vickie. I can’t let her down.’’

Eddie groaned once more. He felt like a child who got told ‘no’ after asking if they can get dessert before supper. 

‘’I didn’t say we can’t find a room at Steve’s and have some…fright-night fun.’’ 

Your voice was laced with a suggestive promise, which made the corner of Eddie’s mouth curl in anticipation. ‘’Now, you’re talking, Mistress of the Dark,’’ he breathed, leaning in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours.

But before he could kiss you, you slipped from his grasp and took a step back. ‘’Where’s your costume? Steve said it was mandatory.’’ 

Eddie, still in his regular band tee shirt and jeans, held up a Michael Myers mask and pointed at a lump of blue on the couch. ‘’Here.’’ 

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you gave him a once-over. ‘’Your work mechanic overalls and a Michael Myers mask? That’s the lowest effort one’s ever made for a Halloween costume,’’ you scoffed, shaking your head. 

A creative person like Eddie could have done so much better. A few weeks ago, he talked about being Aragorn from Lord of the Rings. He would have looked damn good as a rugged ranger, with a sword and medieval warrior attire. Maybe then you would have agreed to skip Steve’s party. 

He rolled his eyes. ‘’Oh come on, it’s not that bad. Michael Myers is a classic, babe.’’ 

Halloween and its antagonist were a cult classic, but costume wise, it was unoriginal. There’s probably going to be at least three other Michael Myers at the party. 

‘’If by classic you mean a very common and lazy costume, I agree.’’ You grabbed the overalls and pushed them at Eddie’s chest. ‘’Now, hurry and put it on. I need to get there before Robin starts to drink and the word vomit gets unstoppable.’’

—

Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3  @cursedandromedablack  @Slashersimpfor  @savagejane1   @wh0reforbucknasty   @eddiemunson-slut   @slvdsjjk  @hehehehannahthings  @dreamdancers-world  @eddiemunsonbby  @notbeforelong  @lexi-2004 @violetrainbow412-blog  @tatespillows  @alwayslexii  @lilygreennn   @milkiane  @imahomeslice  @bunnygrl16 @cwritesforfun @marauders3rawh0re  @your-mom21 @parkersmyth @voguesir @milkiane @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @lilygreennn @alexxavicry @charlie-chick  @wandamaximoffs-deadchild  @horrorstreet  @rmeddar123  @pastel-abyss-x @lil-tracys  @luvmybbies  @chloepricesgrafitimarker  @inluvweddiemunson @i-like-trains @kittenfrostt @simp-for-slasher @m-rae23 @kenzi-woycehoski @amberputh  @sea040561 @wayfaring----stranger @amberputh @starstruckspring @nluvwitheddiemunson @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie @kiszkathecook @Original_babababoo @kittenfrostt @yourfavdummy @kenzi-woycehoski @violetsleftfist

Eddie Munson taglist: @nighttwingg @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie @heizenka @eddiemvunsongf @Eddie_munsons_girlfriend @magicalchocolatecheesecake @eddiemunsonistheloveofmylife @avril-reblog-cave @Fandomfaeryreads @harrys-tittie @straycatarang @fourlokiss  @eddiemattress  @ghoulishlygrey   @paola-carter @bubsonnobx @pauldanoswifereal @ofherscarlettwitchways @kiszkathecook  @truewdw1 @bubsonnobx @ohhrexella @Dreamtiara @pastelbabygirl19  @steves-robin @eddiemunsonbby @jenlouvre @bonked-beyond-belief2  @tvserie-s-world @bootlegmothman420 @courtmr @chrisxevans-seb @satinselenite @thikkiesixx  @jennilynn63  @nia-um  @welcometohellfirw @strangermarvelgirl @sugar-simz @fandomloversvaries @miakatharinaa  @julsss321 @m1rkw00dpr1ncess  @Minksblog @soph69420world  @ameliakf13 @nancewheelersworld @parasadic-blog @nluvwitheddiemunson @veniceb1tch88 @ali-r3n @Luv.eddie @stephylovesmayahawke @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetheart-im-the-boss @jusstdreaaming @hoeformunsonandhargrove @buckyswhxre @tomspidertingle @stormyparker @thechoiceslookgrimm @ilikechocolatemilkh @bbylyneth @bobafettsleftglove @princesseddie @yourfavdummy @xbreezymeadowsmunsonx @rosaliesrealwife @munsonswhore86 @eddiescvmslvt @slightlyvicked

[miniimapp]

Aaron Z - Rocking Around the Christmas Tree

Gen ;; Fluff - Drabble/Short Story

Warnings ;; None

Proofread + Edited ;; Grammarly screamed at me a couple times,, was v upsetting

Auth. Note ;; WELCOME BACK TO DAY 3 OF CHRISTMAS COUNTDOWN AND DAY 23 OF ADVENT !!

enjoy !!

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The air of Christmas is looming, filling up every corner of your home with soft anticipation. Or it would be if you could just open the box holding your beloved Christmas tree. And if Z would stop just watching you struggle and lend a hand.

After a couple of minutes of annoyed and amused silence respectively, you give in and call out to Z, “Honey, could you maybe give me a hand here?” the words punching out of your chest as you contort into the strangest of angles. You swear the box has gotten ten times heavier than it was last year, the weight of it pulling on your muscles as you contort further to balance yourself.

Z, draped lazily on the couch, raises a mocking eyebrow at your request, an amused smirk settled on his lips. “What’s the problem? You’re a strong, independent individual, you got this.”

You huff out a rueful hum as your earlier insistent denials of help come flooding back to you. “Right, well, now as a more wisened, older version of myself, I’ve decided I don’t want our tree looking like it’s fallen out the back of a cargo plane, so please, if you will,” you all but beg, a slight whine taking over your voice.

“Sure, sure, don’t want all the people that aren’t coming to our house to be embarrassed by the sorry state of our tree now, do we?” Z teases in response, already heading towards you and the box with an endearing look of determination.

You roll your eyes, muttering under your breath dramatically, as Z pops the box open. The scent of pine wafts out from the box, filling the room quickly.

“See? Not that hard,” Z says mockingly, a smug smirk playing on lips, as you lift the massive tree stand from the box, lugging it across the floor to the perfect spot.

You tut, shooing Z away as you turn your full attention to the tree. With it now upright, you work quickly to unfurl the tree’s branches, arranging them gently as Z reclaims his spot on the couch, still watching you amused. 

The tree comes together fairly quickly after that, naturally taking shape as the tinsel and lights wrap around quite gracefully if you do say so yourself. Adding the ornaments takes a larger chunk of time as you lovingly arrange them, making sure each ornament has its place and the space to shine. Soon enough, the tree is ready for its final touch: the star.

You trace the edges of the star, tapping your fingers against its dull points as you ponder how to get it to the top. Standing on your tip-toes, you reach up, gripping the nearby furniture to keep your balance, to place it on the highest point of your tree. The ornament barely reaches the higher branches before you crumble out of your strained position, the star’s destination frustratingly just out of reach.

You stumble back a few steps, frustration mounting as you scour the room for some kind of step to give you that extra inch, that extra height that would make all the difference. In your investigation, you catch Z’s eye, who quickly continues pretending to be engrossed in his phone, though you don’t miss the twitch of a smirk as he ducks his head again.

Fine. Two can play that game

“What do you think, should I risk it?” you ask, gesturing to the top of the tree.

That pulls Z out of his pretence. “What are you gonna do, toss it up there like it’s a free throw?” he asks incredulously.

“Might have to,” you reply, sending him a sharp side-eye. “Could end up damaging something though, so if I were you I’d offer to help instead of making me look like a fool in my own home.”

Z huffs out a laugh before standing up with a resigned sigh, pulling out all the dramatics as he walks over to you in mock reluctance, stopping just behind you. “Alright, alright. This had better be worth the trouble, I’m just saying.”

You snort, patting him gently on the cheek like you would a little kid. “Aren’t you such a trooper?” You hold out the star for Z to take, shooting him a sweet smile. “Now, up.”

A yelp escapes your lips when, instead of taking the star like a normal person, Z holds you by the waist and hoists you into the air just enough for you to reach the top of the tree. “Seriously?” you cry,  shrinking back in surprise.

“Sure am. Now put that star on the tree, will ya? I haven’t got all day for this.” Z chastises with a tease, hitching you just a bit higher as you roll your eyes and lean forward to place the star on the tree.

“Yes, sir,” you reply dryly as Z sets you back down on the ground, his hands lingering at your waist as you turn to smile at him.

“Nice job,” Z praises, raising his hand for a high five.

“Thanks,” you reply, smacking Z’s hand with pride.

With your Christmas tree up in its full glory, you can’t help but feel a crucial component of the festive spirit has clicked into place, filling your chest with light as you grin up at your success. You whirl towards Z, ready to smugly brag about you (pretty much) singlehandedly brought Christmas to your home when you notice Z already looking down at you and smiling that fond grin of his.

You roll your eyes, pushing his face away to remove the heavy affection that swells up in your chest under his gaze and know that this Christmas is going to be the best yet.

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hope you enjoyed <3

[greenboyfriend]

pick an image! (tarot card reading)

image source image 1: a purple blob with many holes across its membrane, and a divot separating itself in two. hopefully, looking at this thing, you don't contract trypophobia. image 2: another wonderful blob, this time in blue. many little orange spikes peek out across its surface. the contrasting colors really make this image pop! image 3: less blob like, but still blob-ish, this yellow lad has many spindly arms. the better to hug you with, my dear!

1.・。.・゜✭

although you may feel like you've reached the pits as of late, the empress assures you that there are many, many good things ahead of & around you, so long as you lean into the energy of the chariot. you need to stop feeling like the victim! sure, you may be, but there is a time and place for self pity, and now is not it. some of you- though not all- may also be acting as a martyr, letting others step all over you. this must change! if you're unsure of where to start, going out into nature may help you find balance. it might also be a good idea to enjoy the things you do have at the moment, and you'll find that you have more than enough of what you need. your current challenge is to embody the chariot! maybe you're resisting it a bit, it's ok, we've all been there. but this has the potential for great results! fixate on your goal and use everything in your power to propel yourself towards it. it may take some time, and you may have to take multiple steps to get there, but that victory will be oh so sweet. you will have to resist your impulses to get angry, or for some, to put others before you. but the 9 of pentacles nails the point home: you need to do what is best for YOURSELF, using your own methods. you're already set up to succeed! just keep your head level, and resist the urge to give them a piece of your mind. i promise, once you've reaped what you're sowing now, it will be twice as satisfying as lashing out.

(10 of swords, the empress, the chariot reversed, 9 of pentacles)

2.・。.・゜✭

you're holding out against something. you're saying no, refusing, struggling!... im sorry to be the one to tell you, but you've gotta give it up. look, im all for resisting authority, but within this situation, rescinding your position will be beneficial. think of it as taking a step back in order to take two steps forward. you're going to have to go in the total opposite direction, to put others first and try to see things from their perspective. know that you're operating from a safe place, too, and that, no matter how things go, you will be protected. you may even be blissfully unaware to some of the worse aspects of this situation. you will need to find a solution that lasts. you don't have to do this on your own, whether you need help with resources or anything, asking for help is completely ok. it may feel like a sacrifice to change your mind, but this is the path that will leave you with a clean conscience. this situation likely has to do with family.

(7 of wands reversed, ace of pentacles, the hanged man, 6 of cups, 10 of pentacles)

3.・。.・゜✭

much like those who chose image two, you will also be or already are doing an about-face, where you overturn old priorities into the new. it seems like this is going to take a lot of tinkering to get just right, and will require that you have the perseverance to see it through. it won't be easy, but, as the king of pentacles' energy shines through you, anything can be made possible! being committed to your task and able to adapt as your situation changes will serve you well. don't be afraid to admit you were wrong, to ask for help from multiple places, or to take a rest after getting knocked down. this is all part of the process. the queen of cups gives you the added strength of patience, kindness, and a finely tuned intuition. pay attention to your dreams and immediate gut reactions, and use them as building blocks to further reach your goal. if you're like me, who wants all the questions to be solved as soon as they appear, taking your time and allowing yourself to wait for the perfect moment is not always easy-- but take this as a means to strengthen your resolve. we are all prone to different skillsets, patience being one of them. maybe finding help in this area would prove useful to you?

(king of pentacles, the hanged man, temperance, 9 of wands, queen of cups)

thanks for reading! if ur interested in getting an in depth reading with me, send me a dm or an ask!

[mysoulspiralbound]

drew the Omori party in outfits a little more fit for their adventures than there pj's

explanations, dnd classes, close up's, and Mari & Basil under the cut

Omori is the party's bard, despite looking and acting like a rogue. as both an artist and a poet, i thought bard suited him better. working with his monochrome color palette was a challenge, but i'm really happy with how it turned out. a fun fact is that me wondering where the heck omori was keeping a knife on his person (combined with my horror at him running around deep well in his socks) is what inspired this design series. i'd like to imagine that Mewo is his familiar.

Aubry is a barbarian based on her focus on strong attacks and her ability to channel her anger into large damage. i tried to keep the shaping and color of these designs mostly the same, though obviously more embellished, as she's literally running around barefoot in a nightgown in cannon. sturdy gloves and boots are an adventuring must, and i picked her meteor hammer cause i think it's her coolest weapon. i will never understand why Sweatheart's pillow somehow deals more damage.

Kel is a kind of trickster rouge — he's not great at stealth, but he's got the highest dex of the party and he's not bad at traps. he's got a lot of colors in his shirt which was kind of a challenge, and i really went back and forth on what player class to give him. his pouch is for additional amo, and his gloves are based on archers globes, since he's the only one who uses ranges weapons in the party. if i redoing this, i would might get rid of his undertunic and/or leg wraps. they were added for protection, but i feel they're mostly just cluttering up the design.

lastly, Hero is a paladin, based both on his healing abilities and his knight in shining armor energy. i picked pink as his accent color cause it contrasted best while still remaining in the omori pallet. his pj's were the hardest to match into a proper adventurer's outfit, so Hero's armor is largely independent of his canon design. the rose on his chest is a reference to his charming personality, the chivalry expected of knights, and his flower from basil's garden. it's also there to fill space, as his design was looking a little to plain otherwise. his kitchen knife is gold to match his little sparkles and to avoid having it blend too deeply into his armor.

Basil definitely has some strong "your princess is in another castle vibes, so that's what i went with for his outfit. he's got his classic flower crown, and i tried to put as much plant imagery as possible into his dress. i switched the princes gloves for gardening ones in his redesign, as well as changing how the dress layered so the lacing didn't run all the way down the garment. the frills on his sleeves and hem are designed to look like petals!

last but not least it's Mari! i've kind of got two versions of her, but i do very much like both. first, i drew her as a wizard, based a little bit on gandalf's habit of showing up, lending the party a helping hand before disappearing to do "important wizard stuff." she's important and helpful when she shows up, but ultimately, the party has to do things on their own. her spell component pouch and her staff both have her picnic basket theming added, as it's symbolic of her healing abilities and the safety she provides the party.

the other version i drew of her leaned more towards cleric based on her role as healer. she'd be a deeply religious figure, possibly having it be revealed later on that she's more powerful than the party knows. i incorporated her picnic pattern here as well, and kept the style of her shoes, since she is literally the only one of the main six who wears them in the dreamscape. like wizard!Mari, her necklace and the ribbon around her head are both callbacks to the ribbon tied around her neck in her original design.

[baileypie-writes]

Hello! My name is Korey! I've recently been seeing your blog pop up whenever I search for veneer stuff and when I tell you I am STARVED for content- (I understand that there might be more content out there but I haven't been able to find any ;-;) I personally love your headcanons and the way you write everything and I was really hoping if you could do a Veneer x Male reader? And don't worry!! I read your rules so I have a basic idea for the story!!! You can do headcanons or a one-shot, either one works!!!

So; Masc!Reader is like a tall intimidating guy that dresses rather formally, often in reds whites and blacks. HOWEVER! They are SUCH a softy. Like, they have the voice that could scare anyone but they love stuffed animals and like dressing up in cute animal onesies!!!

When Veneer first met this gentleman, Reader would often keep to himself at first because he didn't want to accidentally scare him, but Veneer is immediately head over heels just because he sounds and looks cool. But as soon as the Reader says that they love bunnies and start opening up more he is just SWOONING-

And when Veneer starts ranting about how he thinks Reader is cool to Velvet, she is just; "That guy?? He's terrifying-"

I'm so sorry if I made the request too long, please let me know if you need more info or if you can't do this request! I will definitely understand!!!!

A/N ~ Aww this idea is so cute! Love all the details you added! I decided to do headcanons, cause it’s better for me to get all my thoughts down. Hope you enjoy!

~Veneer with an Intimidating, but Soft Boyfriend~

Fandom: Trolls 3: Band Together

Reader: Male

Relationship: Romantic

Genre: Pure fluff

Warnings: None!

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

~ I feel like Veneer is naturally drawn to tough looking guys. So obviously, he likes you the moment you meet. He thought that you were just too cool! He wasn’t scared like most people are, he just wanted to get to know you!

~ When he finds out that you’re actually just a big softy, he falls for you ten times harder. Like, you’re just so cute to him.

~ He’s in love with your voice! He barely texts you, because he prefers calling. He just wants to hear you!

~ You love plushies? Well guess what, you’re now getting a new one every week. Veneer is big on spoiling you, so be prepared to not have any room left on your bed. Plushies everywhere!

~ Veneer buys you guys matching animal onesies. Multiple sets, in fact. Each with a different color and animal theme. His personal favorites are the rainbow unicorn ones.

~ Sometimes he forgets that most people perceive you as scary. He’ll get confused when people are nervous around you, until he remembers how intimidating you look to them. So he tries his best to make people see you as you truly are: kind and caring!

~ He personally loves how you dress formally. He thinks it makes you look so handsome(not that you’re not already). Sometimes he wears the same style so you two match.

~ Veneer sees you as his Prince Charming. His night in shining armor. His soulmate. And he calls you all of these things as nicknames. His sister hates it, thinking it’s super cheesy. But he couldn’t care less.

~ Secretly want you to carry him around bridal style. It adds to the whole Prince Charming thing. If you actually do it, he’ll literally swoon.

~ Veneer loves how much taller you are than him. He loves when you lean down to kiss him, or when he has to stand on his tip-toes to reach your lips.

~ Before she met you, Velvet created an image of you in her head based on what Veneer says about you. Let’s just say that she was surprised when she did meet you. You were definitely not what she was expecting. You? Sweet and soft? How?

~ Velvet is honestly confused on how Veneer isn’t scared of you. She finds you terrifying. She physically jumps when you just ask her a simple question because your voice sounds so scary. Veneer doesn’t get it at all.

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

~~baileypie-writes

[lifblogs]

Better Late Than Dead

Fandom: The Bad Batch Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Pairing: Tech/Phee Word Count: 1268 Summary: Tech arrives on Pabu for the first time since he was rescued from Dr. Hemlock, and put his mind back together (mostly). A special someone is there waiting for him. AUTHOR'S NOTE: Disclaimer, I have PCS (Post-Concussion Syndrome) so this story could be a mess, it could be great. I don't know, but I tried, and I had fun. First story I've written since I hit my head. I am sooooo nervous about it for some reason. This fandom seems like nothing but kind, though. If you read it, thank you. READ ON AO3

Tech paused getting off the ramp. Once he stepped off onto Pabu he would no longer just be on the Marauder with his family. He would exist in a public space, with people who… might not understand, who would see him differently. He was different.

There were some stares from the crowd, but he couldn’t track all of them, faces blurring and disappearing as he watched. But maybe those eyes were still on him.

Subconsciously, he touched the back of his head, feeling the metal plate there that replaced part of his skull, felt the lines where his scalp had split, where either through injury or one of his many surgeries his brain had been exposed. His new and enhanced left eye (replacing the gouged one from Plan 99) searched the space before him frantically, but he tried to take in what the right saw first: bright, blue skies with white, puffy clouds; a calm ocean for kilometers on end; happy people in colorful clothing—survivors, every one of them. How could such a place exist when he’d been through such horrors in Hemlock’s dark labs? Now it was like this beautiful place only half-existed.

The beauty was what his right eye saw. The left one… He hadn’t had a chance to reprogram it yet. Most of what he saw through it was a dizzying array of heat signatures, structural integrities, and the best places to shoot a target. According to his eye, everyone was a target. This was all superimposed over his regular vision from his right eye. The confusing signals to his brain usually left him with the feeling as if his eyes were being scooped out (half a phantom pain and reminiscent of his real horrors), and it would throb up into his head. With the metal plate added in, he had more headaches than he could manage on most days.

Still feeling anxiety churning in his gut; cold, clammy fear gripping the back of his neck and stripping him bare, he held up his new datapad. Tech decided to do a quick check of his metabolic system, and the absorption levels of his various injected pain meds, and their half-lives. This was done through a chip implanted at the base of his skull. Unfortunately that had required an extra surgery, seeing as that hadn’t fit in the area where he’d needed his skull repaired.

His datapad beeped quietly, and a yellow bar showed up near the top. He’d need to re-inject his left hip soon.

Tech glanced up, the real galaxy around him becoming too real. Coming towards the ramp with a hesitant smile and shining eyes was Phee.

His heart suddenly seemed too big, blood somehow beating hard all across his torso, even as it crawled up his throat. Phee. He really had thought of her, even remembered one instance of Hemlock torturing him for mentioning her name. He shuddered, his mechanical left leg shifting in a way that seemed too obvious and inhuman to him.

Tech wasn’t the same.

Am I even Tech?

No, no. You’ve… you’ve been over this already. Done the work. I. Am. Tech.

And he had thought about Phee in what he had thought would be his last moments. He’d surprisingly had the time to think about a lot of people.

He’d thought about his last-minute realization, and he’d mourned what could have been. And now… there she was. Here he was. Pabu. Safety. Phee.

Tech took a deep breath, tried to swallow back his fear, and stepped down the ramp, all too aware of how he looked now. Feeling clumsy with this changed body, he struggled to put his datapad back on his belt. One last thing to put between this moment and the next, the inevitable.

Phee met him at the bottom of the ramp, letting him step off. For a moment the voices around them dimmed, but neither of them spoke.

Oh no, she’s horrified. She’s disgusted. She’s—

“You look different.”

Blunt, as always.

“Oh.”

“I think I like it.”

“You… do?” Tech asked, caught off guard as he usually was with her. (How could anyone script conversations with a flirtatious, bold pirate?)

She shrugged. Was she… crying?

Some of his vision blurred. His eye malfunctioning? No. His right one. He was crying.

Hesitantly, she touched his shoulder. Tech jumped a little, but let her warm, assuring touch stay there. He wondered what that hand felt like—strong, calloused.

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

Was this him? All these differences, and injuries, and modifications?

Well, he was still Tech, so he supposed that made the plate in his skull him, the chip, the cybernetic leg, and eye. Still… Tech. Just different. A new Tech.

“I suppose.” He was surprised to hear himself speak.

“Then of course I like it! But I have a bone to pick with you.”

Tech almost backed away, startled, as her finger prodded against his chest.

What bone?

What—Oh!

“Seven months?!” she went on, voice raised and rough. “I don’t see you for seven months?! And all I could get out of Mr. Face Tattoo was that you were ‘indisposed.’”

“Sorry I’m… late,” he got out, as if that somehow summed up everything that had changed his life, that had even affected hers.

That’s when a sob left Phee, and her tears spilled, and she cupped Tech’s scarred face in her hand. It was calloused, just like he’d thought it’d be. Something about her touch was reassuring and invigorating all at once.

And it was kind.

Tech hadn’t realized how much he’d needed someone outside his family to support him until that moment. It left him weak in his right knee, and he might have trembled.

Phee sobbed again, and then got out with a smile bright enough to rival the stars, “But still—better late than dead, I always say.”

Tech held her hand against his face for a second, marveling at the feeling, her words. Then he wasn’t sure who pulled who into an embrace, but suddenly she was flush against him, her heart beating fast, chest moving with her sobs, a wild scent of ocean salt, island fruit, and some kind of warm spice surrounding him. With his chin tucked against her shoulder, and her head resting against his he learned her hair was a softness he’d never felt before.

“Though of course you had to lose one brown eye on me,” she joked. He was surprised when it didn’t hurt, not from her.

“I’ll try not to lose the other one.”

“You’d better. What am I supposed to call you now? ‘Brown Eye’ doesn’t sound romantic.”

“We could… make it romantic,” he ventured, voice a soft murmur against her.

Phee laughed, and pulled back, patting his cheek. “Honey, I’m not sure you know what romance is.”

For the first time since Plan 99, months and months ago, Tech laughed—something he’d thought he would never be capable of again. And, he thought, maybe he’d like to do it again. With Phee.

“I’m smart,” he assured her, watching as she wiped away her tears, wishing he could do it for her. He went on, surprising himself, “I’m sure I can learn.”

Phee took his hand in hers, and Tech was startled by how much he enjoyed that her hand was smaller than his.

“Well, come on then,” she said, starting to drag him along, towards society as a whole new person. “You’re gonna have a lot of studying to do.”

Tech smiled, somehow, as he followed her, leaving just a little bit of that dark lab behind him.

[rhiandoesfandom]

Ficlet: Are You Ready?

Timeline: Two years after Apology Tour, Blitz and Stolas's Wedding day.

Blitz paces back and forth in their apartment bedroom in Pride, if he went any faster he'd be making a rut in the carpet.

Loona knocks, "Everything okay in there?"

Blitz laughs nervously, "Yep!"

She walks in, covering her eyes. "You can pull your hand down, I'm decent" he says and she uncovers her eyes, widening them.

"Dad....you look..."

"Like a nerd? Like I should've chosen a different color? Fuck did the cake get there yet? Why did I let Stolas go ahead to the venue without me!"

Loona smiles and walks over, straightening his bow tie, "Because you've been hopelessly anxious about this whole day". He sighs and drops down his arms.

"Loonie what if we just reschedule?" He winces and she laughs, "The guests are already there, Dad. Waiting for you", she points to him and he holds his chest.

"Are you..good?" She asks and he sits on the bed. She sits next to him and he puts his head in his hands.

"What the fuck am I doing Loonie?! We've been through so much together but it still seems surreal that I'm about to marry a prince! I mean- me!" He says, pained.

She laughs, "Well, he isn't a prince anymore". Blitz rolls his eyes, "You know what I mean. He deserves better".

Now she rolls her eyes, "You really believe that? That sounds like something you'd say two years ago".

He rubs his arms, "Yeah...no. No I don't think that anymore. I'm just making an excuse. I'm just so nervous Loonie".

She smiles and pats his back, "Therapy's been good to you dad. But I want more family, so come on, let's finish this".

He returns her smile and grabs her hand and she pulls him out of the apartment. He presses his crystal and they walk through, and his eyes widen. The venue in Gluttony is beautiful. Loona might have pulled a few strings.

There's a deck on a shining lake leading to an arch with flowers of all kinds, ones that Stolas himself used to cultivate. There's a reception area with all their favorite foods, a dance floor, it's everything they wanted.

"Loonie this is..."

"Is it too much? I told Bee it was a low-key wedding but she's really into these sorta things so she insisted also on the giant heart shaped picture of you two made out of cheese" she points to it and Blitz laughs.

"Loonie it's perfect", he kisses her on the forehead and takes his place at the arch. He looks around and blushes, feeling all the eyes on him. Fizz waves from him and Ozzie in the second row and he waves back.

Then everyone goes quiet. A soft and gentle lyre tune starts and Blitz realizes his hands are shaking and rubs them, putting them half behind him. He stares at the doors leading to the building where Stolas has been getting ready.

Loona and Bee walk together arm in arm and bee sits in the front row while Loona stands by Blitz. Then comes Via, arm in arm with a best friend Blitz and Stolas have met. She stands on the other side of the arch, smiling at Blitz. He gives her an anxious smile back and can feel the tears behind his eyes.

Keep it in...just a little longer..

Then comes Vassago arm in arm with Andrealphus. Blitz was hesitant to invite them as Andrealphus betrayed them so badly, but Stolas insisted he wanted Vassago there, and unfortunately they are now a packaged deal. Vassago takes his place next to Via as Stolas's best man.

Finally, at the end of the train before Stolas is Millie and Moxxie, hand in hand they nod to all their friends in the audience. Then they part as Moxxie sits in the front row as Millie takes place next to Loona as Blitz's Best person. He was going to ask Fizz, and to be honest Fizz has told him he wishes it was him. But Millie has helped him through so much, we all grow and become different people, ya know?

Finally, a certain owl peaks through the doors. The song intensifies, and Stolas steps through in a suit similar to Blitz's with purple and blue stars but he has an added velvet cape and a veil train pulling behind him. He walks elegantly down the aisle deck, towards the arch. The Gluttonous sun shining on his eyes.

Blitz can feel that he is already a blubbering mess. And he can feel Moxxie and Fizz crying also on his behalf. He just stands there watching this regal creature approach him at the archway.

"Hello Darling", he says with a soft voice and wipes a few tears of his own, then before Blitz can wipe his face on his sleeve, bends down and wipes his eyes with a hand talon and kisses his cheek. The audience awws then there's a small clap from behind them.

"You look so beautiful", Blitz says, looking up at his owl.

Stolas beams, "Only because of you".

"Alright! Let's get this show on the road, shall we?", pipes Lucifer, opening a book. Ozzie rolling his eyes and whispering to Fizz, "He wouldn't be able to take a hint if it slapped him in the face", Fizz giggles then puts a hand over his mouth as Blitz looks to him smiling and smiles back, waving.

Stolas puts a hand on Blitz's cheek and he returns the favor with a hand on Stolas's waist.

"Are you ready my dear?" Stolas asks.

"More than anything", Blitz replies.

[not-a-space-alien]

K&J x MMSS 4: Valen & Jim Part 5B

Part 5 of the "B side" universe for AU4. You can check chapter 4B for clarification on what this means if you're lost, lol.

K&J masterlist

MMSS masterlist

K&J x MMSS crossover masterlist

To be added to the taglist, contact @whumpsday

Warnings: Blood, aftermath of torture, suicide attempt

***

Jim comes down the next day with a light knock on the wall. "Valen? How're you doing?" He hopes Valen's healed some. That maybe the blood that's made him such a desirable victim finally did some good. "You sleep well?"

Valen pokes his head out from under the blanket sleepily.  He is starting to look a bit better.  He nods fuzzily, not coming out from his nest.

"Good, good. I'm real glad. Lookin' better, too. You'll be all better in no time. So, my sister and her friend are both coming over today to give you some more blood, do you remember them? From when you dropped me off?" Jim's hoping the fact that Valen knows they're hunters won't scare him, but he's met them before and they didn't hurt him, so hopefully it'll be okay.

Valen perks up.  More blood?  Truthfully, no, he doesn't remember them, but he's so excited about getting more blood.  He nods, eyes shining.  Yes, more blood, please.

"Great! How about in the meantime, you can grab a bath, and I'll bandage up whatever's still not feeling great. Liz is also gonna take all the silver shit and the outside lock off the door, so you won't have to worry about that while you're staying here. You wanna grab your other clothes and come upstairs? I already closed all the blinds and curtains last night." Jim informs him.

Valen is feeling so much more hopeful than last night.  He's rested, and fed--even if he probably shouldn't have done that part, and he has clothes, and oh, he gets to take a bath.  He still can't move very fast, but he excitedly gets up to follow Jim upstairs.

Jim makes sure to grab the writing things before leading Valen up to the bathroom. "Alright, here we are. I'm leaving your writing stuff right out here so you can grab it on your way out. Come out to the living room whenever you're done." He's so glad Valen seems to be in better spirits today.

Valen has a real bath, his first in years.  Not a freezing cold spraydown with a hose.  It's wonderful and warm, and he gets himself clean.  He's starting to let himself believe that maybe good things can happen to him again.  He washes his raw face and bloody, skinned wrists gently.

When he's done, he steps out of the tub and pats himself dry with the towel provided, then dresses himself.  They're his clothes.  It's grounding and humanizing in a way he hadn't thought of.  They're his clothes, from the before times, being given back to him, to pull him back up to earth.  These are Valen's clothes, and he's wearing them, so he must be Valen.

Valen combs his wet hair with his fingers, looking at himself in the mirror, and goes out into the living room.

"Looking awesome, bud. C'mon and let's get you wrapped up." Jim pats the couch, gauze already in hand. "Just your face and your wrists, or anything else too?"

Valen pats himself down, but they'd been leaving him fresh for his new warden, so his wrists and face are pretty much the only things that need to be wrapped up.  The only other thing that hurts currently is his stomach, still far too hungry to be comfortable, but even that's lessening.

Valen sits down on the couch, touching his face, his wrists, and then giving a thumbs up.  He wants to smile, but with the state of his face, that would probably just look worse, if anything.

"Gotcha." Jim gently bandages both, making sure to leave an opening for Valen's mouth so he can eat later. When was the last time Valen was touched gently? He knows how it feels to ache for the kind touch of another person. "Do you think you could handle a hug?" he asks when he's done, knowing it might be pushing it in his starved state.

Valen's watery eyes light up.  A hug, a hug, yes, yes, yes.  He wants one so bad.  He can't bite if he wants the muzzle to stay off, he has to not bite.  He vibrates on the couch, extending his arms feebly.  Yes, yes, please, hug, hug.

Jim is scared. Valen may mean well, but he's also a vampire, and being bitten on the wrist was bad enough. But he needs to give his guy a hug so bad. He reminds himself he can always push Valen away if he needs to, like he did yesterday. This isn't Kane. He's had 10 years to get over it, he should be better by now.

He enters Valen's arms, wrapping his own around his thin frame in a warm embrace. "I've got you. Everything's gonna be okay. Promise."

Thank you, thank you, thank you.  He leans into the hug, vibrating, excited.  Jim is so warm, and so welcoming, and so soft, and so vulnerable, and so, so, so delicious-smelling-

Before he even realizes what he's doing, he's bitten down in the crook of Jim's neck.  As soon as his mouth floods with the taste of blood once again, he remembers he has to not bite and pulls away, falling off the couch and to the floor, whining.

Jim freezes up and goes quiet again. It's on the wrong side, because he would never let anyone's face get close to his scar, and the fabric of his turtleneck wets with blood. He trembles and cries, sitting there on the couch completely tense, letting out soft sobs.

Valen sobs too.  I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.  He'd even fed already, yesterday, and he still hadn't been able to resist biting.  He's ruined it, and maybe he'll be punished, but even worse, he probably won't be hugged again.  He half-stumbles, half-crawls over to where the writing materials are and quickly scribbles out I'm sorry, and holds it up to Jim.  He stays on his knees, holding it in front of his face with trembling hands.

Jim takes a good minute to get to a state where he can respond. It helps that he was expecting this might be a possibility, it's not out of the blue like the first one. He took a risk and it failed.

He reminds himself he's okay. He's not very hurt. He's not food, Valen stopped, he's not being taken back. It was just a bite. He used to do this every day and it was worse, then.

He takes a deep breath and looks over to Valen, crying holding up a sign reading I'm sorry with shaking hands.

"It's- it's not your fault." Jim says quietly. "B-bad call. On me. I'm just gonna change shirts and take a breather real quick, okay?" He grabs the medical supplies he'd just used on Valen and scurries away to his bedroom.

Valen watches him go with despair.  Everything had been going so well.  Jim said it's not his fault, but his sister is coming over, and maybe she and her friend won't be so nonchalant.  And he wouldn't get any more hugs, now.

Still crying, he pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and pulls it over himself, curling up in a ball and hiding himself under a nearby chair.

Jim dresses the wound, changes his shirt, and tries his best to calm down. He returns downstairs about 10 minutes later, much more calm. He got bit and everything's still okay.

It's apparent that Valen has not spent their time apart calming down. Jim sits back on the couch. "Hey, you're okay, Valen. Everything's still okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. You can stay there if it makes you feel safer, but nothing bad's gonna happen if you come out. We're all good. More than good."

Valen peeks out from the blanket.  Jim looks okay.  He crawls over to the coffee table, taking his pencil in an unsteady hand and writing Thank you for the hug I hope we can hug again sometime when it's safe and then sliding it over to Jim.  He then crawls back under the chair, not panicking or trembling, but still feeling more secure balled up and tucked away

"Yeah. Yeah, man, just, I'm gonna need a little. You know what, though? Laken loves hugs. Maybe you can ask them for one after you feed from them." Jim suggests. "Sorry for freaking out. I've just got baggage about bites."

He smiles a little, remembering something. "You know, when you picked me up that day, I thought for a minute you were gonna make me your bloodbag. Y'know, before that was cleared up. And you know what I thought about it? Honest to god? 'Oh, this won't be so bad.' You were so nice that was what I thought about potentially being kidnapped a second time."

Valen lowers the blanket from his head, eyebrows raised.  Really?  Maybe Valen really had used to be a really nice person, one who could hug people without biting.  He mourns the loss, averting his eyes, keeping them on Jim's feet.

Valen hears them approaching before Jim does, two humans. There's a knock.

"That's gotta be them." Jim says as he gets up to answer the door. He makes sure the sun won't shine near Valen before opening it all the way.

After they all exchange greetings, Liz asks, "Where is he?"

"Hiding under the chair. He's real easily spooked. Be gentle with him." Jim says. "C'mon in. Valen, you wanna come out? Liz and Laken are gonna give you some blood."

Valen crawls out tentatively.  There being multiple humans in the room is scary, and he barely remembers these new ones.  He'd been scared of Jim before, but now that he's more scared of the newcomers, Jim feels very safe.  Valen kneels behind Jim's calves, poking his head out from behind the human to look at Liz and Laken.  But not making eye contact.  No, never eye contact.

"Hi, Valen." Liz says softly, heartbroken by the sight before her. Hunters did this. To Valen, of all vampires. The one who gave her her brother back. She speaks as if Valen will break if she talks too loudly. "I'm Liz, if you remember. It's nice to see you again. I wish it were under better circumstances. How are you feeling?"

"Sup." Laken adds with a friendly wave. "I'm Laken, Liz's hunting partner. You ready to get your blood on?"

Valen looks at Liz's hands, which is as close as he dares get to the face, and nods when she asks him how he's feeling.

You ready to get your blood on?  Why can't these humans just talk normally, so he doesn't have to anxiously second-guess what they mean?  Laken means they're going to feed him, right?  That's right, they'd said they were going to give him more blood, right?

He moves himself up into a crouching position, daring to look a little excited.

Wait, back up.  His sluggish brain hadn’t processed what they were saying.

A haze falls over Valen's brain as he looks at Laken again, processing what they’re saying.  Hunting partner, they'd said hunting partner, right?  Are...Are Liz and Laken vampire hunters?

Then he does remember that, fuzzily, that when he'd come to hand Jim off, Liz and Laken and two other vampire hunters had been there.  Hunters, hunters, hunters, that's right, they're hunters.

He drops back down onto all fours, cowering behind Jim and whining in fear.  Jim will protect him, right?  Jim said he wouldn't hurt him.

"Oh, hey, Valen, you're okay. You already knew that, you said you remembered them?" Jim says, confused.

Liz goes to step forward, but Laken grabs her hand and shakes their head. "Space."

Liz nods, staying where she is as she speaks to Valen. "We're not going to hurt you. You- I owe you everything, Valen. You gave me my family back. Plus, what those sorry excuses for hunters did would be fucked up either way. You're safe here."

"It's all good, man. You seemed pretty excited about blood, right? I'll go first." Laken offers, crouching and holding their arm out to Valen. "Don't even worry about it."

Is Laken telling him to bite them?  That can't be right.  They're hunters.  Hunters, hunters, hunters.  He tries to listen to what Liz is kindly saying about owing him, but it feels like he's scrambling to try and climb a slippery staircase to fight upstream and internalize what she's saying.  His eyes dilate with fear as Laken holds their arm out to him, and he shuffles backwards a little bit.

He gropes at the table for his notepad and pen, and he quickly scribbles out Biting is bad I won't bite again I'm sorry I won't bite again Im sorry I know better, underlining and circling words and phrases seemingly randomly to emphasize.

"No, Valen, it's okay. You've got permission this time, it's fine." Jim assures.

Liz puts 2 and 2 together from the this time, her eyebrows raising. "He bit you?"

"Yeah, it's not a big deal. He's trying his best." Jim smiles down at Valen. "No one's mad at you."

"Yeah, c'mon. I wouldn't pull the rug out from under you like that. You can go ahead." Laken encourages.

"It's allowed." Jim adds.

Valen presses himself into the wall away from Laken, shaking with terror, still looking at Liz, that surprised He bit you? still hanging threateningly in the air in his mind.

"Why don't you guys give us a minute? Maybe you can go work on the door?" Jim suggests.

"Alright." Liz agrees, looking at Valen sadly. "Whenever you're ready. None of us are gonna hurt you."

The two of them head to the basement to start removing all the silver from the door.

Jim crouches by Valen. "What do you want, bud? You're not a prisoner anymore, it's up to you now. How can we help?"

He fumbles with the pen, picks it back up, and writes.  Liz is angry at me for biting you?

"No, she's not angry. She was just surprised. She knows you didn't mean to. Do you want me to check?" Jim asks. He'd been lying about it being not a big deal, but he's sure Liz got the message: act like it's not a big deal. It was an accident, after all.

Valen shakes in a heap on the ground.  No way, there's no way a hunter would see what Valen did to Jim, biting him so severely he almost fainted, and think it wasn't a big deal.  Why wouldn't Liz be angry?  She must be angry.  He's going to be punished, he always is.  He's going to fuck up badly enough to be sent back to that hell eventually, he knows he will, no, he already did, he's just waiting for them to realize, realize he deserves pain and pain and pain, never ending ever ever.

He grasps the notepad firmly and writes Please kill me, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and wetting the bandages.

Jim reads the note and gives a heavy exhale, sitting next to Valen so he's against the wall, too. "No, man. I'm not gonna kill you. You wanna die 'cause you're scared? Is that it?"

He whimpers and writes:  I can't take any more pain.

"No more pain. How about that? It's over. It's really, really over, I promise. I'm not gonna hurt you, Liz and Laken aren't either. All we wanna do is see you safe and healthy. No pain." Jim says.

Maybe Valen will believe this eventually, if Jim just repeats it enough, but he can't right now.  He just can't.  His imagination races.  He can picture so, so many ways this could go wrong.  He can't do this anymore.  He can't keep worrying and trying to figure out how to handle things, how to help himself.  Jim and Liz and Laken are telling him they're trying to help him, but all he can feel is the dread of being the center of attention of a group of humans, of hunters.  What hope does he have?

Jim's not going to kill him.  He has to do it himself.  He drags himself over to the chair he'd been hiding under before, wrapping his weak hands around the leg to try and snap it off to fashion a wooden stake, still weeping.

"Hey, fuck, nonono don't." Jim removes Valen's hands from the chair, holding them gently in his own. "How about this. Give it one month." By that time, Valen will have been back home in vampire territory for weeks. He'll probably feel a lot safer, and Jim won't be able to stop him anyway. "Can you do that, you think? Give life as a free man a shot for one month?"

Valen keeps his eyes on the wooden chair.  How does Jim expect him to believe he's a free man?  How does Jim expect him to believe he'll be able to last an entire month without pain, without messing up, without biting, without getting trapped back somewhere where he won't get this opportunity again?  He tries to go for the chair again, more feebly this time, knowing he can't really fight Jim off.  Why hadn't he just waited until later when he was alone and could get away with it?

"Valen, please." Jim doesn't let go of Valen's hands. "Just, just give it a shot. Please? I promise nothing bad's gonna happen. I won't let anyone hurt you, swear on my life. I know you've been through hell, but it's really, really over, I promise. I can't- you know I can't watch you every second, so just, please. It'll be okay, I'll make sure."

Valen shakes in Jim's hands, hanging his head and letting his hair fall in his face.

"I bet you'll feel a lot better with some food in you. It's not gonna fix everything, but everyone feels better after eating. Nothing bad happened to you when you bit me, right? And this is with permission. Or if you want, maybe they can get the blood in a cup or bowl or something for you? What sounds good?" Jim asks, releasing Valen's hands so he can write.

Valen wipes his eye, trying to make his swimming brain comprehend what Jim is saying.  A cup, a cup is good, yes.  This way he doesn't bite.  He writes down, Biting is bad.  A cup sounds good.

"Cup it is, then. You're gonna be just fine." Jim doesn't want to leave Valen alone after his very recent suicide attempt, so instead of going to get Liz and Laken, he calls out. "Hey guys! Valen's ready to eat!"

Laken appears out of the hall. "Alright! Order up."

"Can you try and get it in a cup for him? He's nervous about biting." Jim says.

"Sure thing." Laken gives Valen a thumbs-up.

Valen is starting to come down from the despair a little.  He's getting a thumbs-up.  That's good.  He gives a little whine and lowers himself down, his head on Jim's leg.

Jim cards a hand through Valen's hair while Laken goes to the kitchen. "You're okay. Everything's gonna be fine."

After about a minute, the smell of blood emanates from the kitchen.

Valen perks up at the smell, shaking like an excited dog.  He crawls forward, wringing his hands and leaning towards the kitchen door expectantly.

Jim follows behind him a bit nervously, but looks away from where Laken is draining blood into a mug.

Laken smiles. "Just got started getting this for you. If you changed your mind and wanna nibble, that's cool too." they say, letting their blood trickle into the mug.

Valen stays kneeling on the floor, clearly trying to wrangle the excitement off his face, trying not to hope, but he's aimlessly flapping his hands with excitement, trying to stay still, trying to stay on the floor and wait for Laken to bring it over, trying to control himself.

Laken keeps going until the cup's got a good amount in it, then slaps a large band-aid they had ready over their arm and brings the mug over. "Cuppa Laken, hope you enjoy." they say with a grin.

Valen stands and holds his hands out eagerly to take the cup from Laken as soon as it's within grabbing range, whining as he downs the cup.  He keeps it over his mouth as the remnants dribble down, then he eagerly lowers it down and swipes his finger on the inside of the cup to lick off the remaining blood.  He holds the cup when he's done, not daring to look at Laken, just looking down into the cup.

"Yay, I'm delicious." Laken says with a lighthearted laugh.

Jim rubs Valen's back. He's glad Valen is finally feeding, and that he doesn't have to be the one to provide it. Hopefully he'll be well again soon. "You feel a little better now? Still got a refill waiting, too."

Valen's gaze snaps back up, excitement returning, vibrating.  A refill, he gets a refill?

He looks to Laken, then to Jim, and accidentally makes eye contact, then whines and lowers his eyes back down to Jim's feet.

"I'll go get Liz." Laken says, patting Valen on the shoulder and heading off.

"You're doing great. See, this isn't so bad, right? Everything's okay now." Jim knows full well that everything doesn't just become okay after you escape. But it definitely gets a hell of a lot better.

Liz joins them. "Door's about halfway done. Stuff's easier to take off than to put on. Sorry if we scared you earlier, Valen."

Valen nods, eyes wide.  She's apologizing to him.  That seems wrong.  He should always be apologizing to everyone else ever, for existing.

Liz takes the mug, drains blood into it in a similar fashion, and hands it back. Jim is tenser this time. This entire feeding endeavor is a little much for him, but he doesn't want to leave Valen alone, since Valen seems comforted by his presence.

"Here you go. Hope this is enough." Liz says, pressing the mug back into his hands.

Valen squirms excitedly while Liz prepares the blood for him.  He downs the second mug the same way as the first, licking the inside clean.  He retrieves his writing utensils and writes Thank you, showing it to Liz and Laken.

"You're welcome." Liz says with a smile, while Laken gives a "No problem."

"You still want a hug?" Jim asks quietly. "I'm still uh, taking a break from 'em, but Liz and Laken would probably both be down."

Just as Valen had started to calm down again, his interest is once again piqued, giving an excited little jump, starting forward towards them then stepping back, rocking from foot to foot, nodding vigorously.

"Aw, c'mere!" Laken wraps their arms around him in a warm embrace. Liz laughs and joins in, giving him a group hug. Jim declines to join in, but he does ruffle Valen's hair.Valen starts crying again, and for the first time in forever, they're happy tears.  He holds the hug for an absurdly long time.  It's okay, he's okay, there are people who care about him and want him to feel okay and will hug him.  It's almost inconceivable.

***

@barebarb

@cc1010foxy

@emcscared-whumps

@gt-daboss

@hurtpluscomfort

@jakersdaboss

@lolrpop

@melancholy-in-the-morning

@pigeonwhumps

@secretwhumplair

@some-thrilling-heroics

@starfields08000

@t0rture-me

@thecyrulik

@thejinglingcourtjester

@vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff

@whuarri

@whump-cravings

@whump-my-heart-away

@whumpycries

@wolfeyedwitch

@whump-addict

@why-not-ask-me-a-better-question

[neonscandal]

This week is Sk8 3rd anniversary.... So for celebrating, can I ask a few things :

-Who are your fav character from this series? Why?

-What are your fav moments from this series? -What are your opinions on this fandom's famous ships : Reki/ Langa, Cherry/ Joe, Adam/ Tadashi?

Season 2 and an OVA are coming (eventually)! Which is more than we can say for other series' so I'm going to remain delusionally hopeful. I think it'd be nice if, instead of announcing long awaited continuations, new seasons dropped like Beyonce albums. Without warning and like an unexpected blessing. Just like this ask so thank you for reaching out!

FAVORITE CHARACTER

Sk8 has a wonderful band of idiots who I adore but Cherry is, by far, my favorite. Most specifically through the interactions he has with Joe because they are just so catty and mean to one another but you just know it belies an affection from their entrenched history together whether you consider them a ship them or not.

I love that Cherry had this rebellious era and continues to do so as a respectable adult while juggling such a disciplined craft and career. Like, that dichotomy is just 😘👌🏾. Goals, honestly. He maintains this split by ensuring that his S persona and his everyday persona remain mutually exclusive similar to how Adam conducts himself. Which, now that I'm thinking about it, might be kind of sad but he is, somewhat, of a man of contrasts.

Like, the way his talents splinter is so interesting. He is a founding member of S wherein he remains a threat, an established and respected calligrapher... plus, I feel like he customized Carla himself. What a nerd! Plus, Cherry is so gender. ✨

THOUGHTS ON SHIPS

Reki & Langa - idiot x idiot, I love it? But also, how silly to show someone something you love so intensely only for that love to envelope them so completely. Both in how they receive your hobby but also in how they just become a part of your life. Plus, Langa sees Reki's strengths that he takes for granted and its so necessary because they both think the sun shines out of each others' ass. Also, I see them as a reincarnation of AshEiji from Banana Fish.

Cherry & Joe - Yes. Was that not evident from above? Yes. They fight like an old (and sassy) married couple and then will have a moment of saccharine sweetness that's just... too much. There's also a hilarious sense of patience Joe must have to adapt to Cherry vs. Kaoru and its more evident because there's who the pair are when they are around others, regardless of who the others are, and then who they are when they're alone. Like, why put on the act, guys? Just kiss already.

Adam & Tadashi - As long as it's consensual, I guess, but I'm sure Tadashi could do better.

Oka & Shadow - Okay, but go with me here. Please thank the chokehold umikochannart had on keeping this ship sailing before they wiped their IG of all evidence.

Adding a few other artists guaranteed to give you the brainrot because I fell down a rabbit hole while looking for umikochann and fan artists deserve so much appreciation for covering the spread when we are awaiting new content so go follow them and join their patreons, buy them a kofi and bark on all their posts because we are not deserving of their labor: angrymorilas, bunbun.ji, @pochiikou and @ratcarney IG.

These artists are my gift to you. As a gift, that means that we should love and appreciate the people whose talents enable us to experience the characters we love even more and be thankful for, however long the stretch, the time that our favorite characters and ships were their muses. And to subsequently not be a prick when their muse changes.

⚠️ Spoiler warning for S1 of SK8 the Infinity anime.

FAVORITE MOMENTS

"Push me, Reki." - needs no explanation.

Reki defending Miya's honor - When you see Miya's backstory, his isolation is really sad and makes him vulnerable to Adam's predation but Reki punched well above his weight to defend Miya and it effectively brought the kid into the fold and I loved that. And that's on the power of friendship. ✨ Reki really subjugated everyone in that friend group and is not appreciated enough for it.

When everyone cockblocked Joe - Not every show needs a beach episode. This one does.

Sia La Luce after hours - the fact that Kaoru, after being bride carried by Joe, broke out of the hospital just to go running back to Joe is just so... beautifully chaotic and unexpected. Add a zest of Jonah Scott murmuring "We're not alone, right, Kaoru?" and I am undone.

When the might of Reki's rain wheels kicked in - Overcame insecurity by utilizing the gift he'd had all along? AGH. So perfect, so proud.

When Reki's laughter melts into that of young Adam's - only because that was really sweet

Not in the show but: sharing this series with my niece and nephew and them loving it just as much as I do. They're pretty young so the Venn Diagram of "Shows I Love" vs "Shows I Can Share With Them As A Discerning Adult" has a pretty narrow overlap. So imagine my surprise when my nephew randomly makes a SK8 joke or observation or when my niece drew fan art of Carla? We also sing and dance and laugh during the intro and outtro so I hope they remember the series affectionately when they're older.

[siriannatan]

Left at the Altar - ScottfWhip

This is what happens when I watch too many videos about crazy wedding stories.

Shout out to that one lady who carried on with her wedding party even if her fiancee ran away.

Scott had no idea what to do. He stood on the stairs to the chapel. Just informed by one of his fiancee's... ex-fiancee's groomsmen he was stood up. On his wedding day. What was he supposed to do? Go in and tell everyone 'Sorry, Jimmy liked his best man better...' That'd just make it all feel even more sad.

"You okay?" Scott jumped to his feet turning to see another of Jimmy's groomsmen. Old friend, fWhip if he remembered the introduction. He was becoming painfully aware of how little he knew about Jimmy and his friends. Butt fWhip was cute and seemed genuinely upset with Jimmy and worried.

"I'm holding it together but I feel that if I have to come in and tell everyone  I'll fall apart," Scott confessed, messing his hair. He held back so far but Jimmy was already twenty minutes 'late'. It was a shock no one left yet. 

"You got somewhere to hide? I can say it or... You can just leave, Jim's the jerk here," fWhip offered with a shrug. "Not the first time he ditched someone, but... he never escaped a wedding before... Just go home if you can't stand staying, I certainly won't blame you."

"Jimmy took our ride... ugh... What a mess..." Scott grumbled, thinking about possible hiding spots.

"I... It's dumb... I could give you a ride. Quickly text my brother so he can explain it, he owes me a big favour... It's dumb," fWhip mumbled as the murmurs from inside got louder as everyone wondered what was going on.

"Offering to help me escape my own wedding? Sure, why not," Scott shrugged. He might as well let the day go completely crazy.

fWhip nodded and ran off for his ride. He was soon back with... a freaking motorbike. "I only have one helmet," he gave Scott an apologetic smile as he offered the one helmet to him. "We should hurry. I just texted Sausage that you approve guests knowing," he added and helped Scott with the helmet. He was never on a motorbike.

But now he was on one. Desperately clinging to fWhip. Only realising they're both in damn suits. He had a hard morning, okay. Very form-fitting suit. And fWhip looked unfairly nice in his. Full black nicely contrasting his pale complexion and copper-ginger hair.

fWhip didn't take him directly home. First they went for fried chicken sandwiches. "I know how weddings work, I was my sister's best man. You must be hungry," fWhip explained at the parking lot. "And people might go to your place to look for you," he added as Scott slowly realised that fWhip took him to a spot farthest from the wedding venue.

Scott just nodded and let fWhip handle the breakfast and everything. Himself just sitting down. For the first time looking at his phone. Nothing from Jimmy. Some worried texts from family. 'Too tired, couldn't handle it, will deal with everything tomorrow,' he responded to a few most important people before turning his phone off.

"Got our order," fWhip smiled awkwardly, taking a seat opposite of Scott. "I'm really sorry about Jim... he's..."

"Jimmy? I felt something was off since morning. He wasn't answering my texts," Scott sighed staring daggers at his phone as if it could dare to come back to life on its own. "You said it's not the first time he did something like this?"

"Prom. Totally ditched me. Apologized profusely a few days later but I would not let us be more than just friends... I really didn't think he'd do it on his wedding day," fWhip confessed, staring at the order number screen. "I only met Tango at his bachelor party, it didn't seem like they were that close..."

Scott sighed. He was about to say something but their order was called. As they ate Scott swapped the subject to try to get to know fWhip. He was, kind of, his knight in shining armour. Or on a shining Harley, at least.

And what a knight he turned out to be. It only took Scott three days to settle all remnants of the wedding with fWhip's help. As it turns out he's a lawyer. And this wasn't the first wedding he had to help 'clean up'.

Three years later, Scott got proposed to again. By a handsome lawyer with a Harley motorbike, a cute smile, and tattoos.

[helix-enterprises117]

Halo Reloaded: Dusty

Based on this prompt.

Corporal John "Dusty" Matthews was having what you might call a 'bad day.' One minute, he was on a routine sweep in a supposedly abandoned sector, and the next, he found himself accidentally teleported onto a Sangheili battle-corvette. As far as Dusty was concerned, being aboard an alien ship without so much as a "by your leave" was less than ideal. He wasn't an explorer or a diplomat; he was a marine, better at shooting things than discussing intergalactic relations.

As he tiptoed down a corridor that looked more like an art gallery (if art galleries were designed by giant, war-loving aliens), he hoped his standard-issue boots didn’t squeak too loudly on the sleek metal floor.

Then she appeared. The door at the end of the hall slid open, and out stepped not the hulking warrior he expected but a Sangheili who could only be described as regally striking—tall, with the poise of a dancer and the kind of natural command that made Dusty straighten up without thinking. Her armor was less 'battle-ready' and more 'ceremonial chic,' inlaid with stones that sparkled even in the dim light.

"Is this translator working? Okay, listen," she said, her voice firm but surprisingly melodic. It was the kind of voice that made you want to agree first and ask questions later.

Dusty looked around, half-expecting cameras to reveal this was some bizarre reality show. Finding none, he focused back on her as she continued. "I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend so that my parents can get off my back."

"I’m sorry, what now?" Dusty blurted, his response a mix of confusion and disbelief.

The Sangheili princess sighed, her mandibles flaring slightly in what Dusty guessed was frustration. "It's quite simple. You, a dashing human marine, are my boyfriend. We met during negotiations, fell in love despite our differences, and now you are here to meet my parents. They won’t pressure me into any advantageous but loveless unions if they think I am already committed."

Dusty processed this, his mind racing. "You want me to... help you trick your parents? With all due respect, ma'am, I'm just a marine, not an actor."

Dusty scratched his head. "Just a quick question—why me? And what makes you think I won't just turn tail and run?"She stepped closer, and he instinctively took a step back.

"Perfect!" she clapped her hands together, causing Dusty to jump. "A marine is straightforward, honest. That’s exactly what we need. Less acting, more being yourself. Can you do that?"

"...Sure. But if we're going to do this," he said, adopting a more serious tone, "I need to know your name. Can’t be lovebirds if I don’t know who you are."

"Thelara," she answered quickly, extending a hand, which he shook, noting again the surprising gentleness in her strong grip.

"And how exactly do we sell this fairytale romance?" Dusty asked, trying to ignore the absurdity of his situation.

"Just follow my lead, compliment me often, and look like you're enjoying yourself," Thelara instructed, already walking back towards the way she came, expecting him to follow.

"Compliment you on what, exactly? Your... shining personality?" Dusty quipped, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"That’s a start. Oh, and try to look smitten, will you? Like you can't believe your luck," she added over her shoulder.

Dusty attempted a smitten look, which felt more like a grimace. Thelara glanced back and chuckled. "We might need to work on that."

As they approached what Dusty assumed were the royal quarters, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement bubbling up alongside his apprehension.

Playing the part of a lovesick human in an alien court wasn’t exactly covered in basic training, but then again, neither was accidentally teleporting onto an alien flagship.

"Stick close and let’s not screw this up, okay, Dusty?" Thelara whispered, as they paused before a grand door.

"Lead the way, Princess," Dusty replied, mustering a confidence he didn't feel. He figured if he was going to pretend to be in love, he might as well enjoy the performance. After all, how often does one get to romance an alien princess?

[wolverinedoctorwho]

[ID: Photos showing the progression of a chibi-style drawing of Gale Dekarios, done with marker and colored pencil. In Thorass, the word "Illusion" is written on the left side of Gale, while "Gale Dekarios, Wizard of Waterdeep" is written to his right. /End ID]

Did a chibi Gale!!! I really just wanted to practice drawing him. I know my current style is pretty repetitive (hell, I trace a cutout to get the base shape correct) but it's what I'm most comfortable/confident with right now. I'm currently flirting with the idea of making a Gale paper doll, so this gave me an idea of what he might look like!

More rambling under the cut!

Things I wish I'd done differently:

The bracers and belt. Dear gods. I tried the details in the base sketch and realized it looked awkward so I erased it, and then when I went to do my initial line I just started drawing them in again! Next time I draw this outfit I will definitely NOT ink those in that way!

I wish I could do more shading. I'm not really sure how to shade, but it's harder with colored pencils when your color options are limited and you can't just slap on a Multiply layer. I tried to shade on the leg with black colored pencil and I wish I had tried that on a different project first 😔. I also think the arms and torso blend together bc even with the little shading I tried they're still not distinct.

Overall I think I could have found a better balance with the details. The bracers and belt did not need to be that complicated compared to the pants and boots and earring. I just kind of got lost in the lines when I was trying to get the shape of Gale's belt figured out.

This is less a critique and more a lament, but I really wish I had more markers and some paint pens. They would have really spiced this up!

His eye shines looked so good in the sketch and then I messed them up with the first brown pencil and couldn't fix it 😞

Things I like in this piece:

I like the way the orb and the lines came out! I'm not very good with inking fine details like that, so I'm happy with the way it turned out.

I really like the shade of colored pencil I found for the robes. It's almost exactly the shade of the robes in game.

Though I wish I could have made the eyes darker, I still like the way they turned out. I'm not really sure how to draw eyes that aren't anime-girl-shaped, but I tried to convey Gale's sweetness and softness. (I did forget about the eye whites when drawing on his face-lines, though...)

Despite going overboard with the details I do still like that I was able to do them. The belt turned out messier than intended but I think I figured it out in the end, and having never drawn a bearded character before I think I did a decent job!

I was honestly really nervous about this one until I put down his hair and face colors. That was a really fun moment when it all came together! I think adding in color really helps with a style like mine, because otherwise I find the details kind of mush together.

By the way, I wrote "Illusion" in Thorass next to him because of how much the word gets associated with him in game. If you choose to do Gale's Weave Sex Scene, the book you look at on his balcony says "Illusion" in Thorass, albeit backwards and upside-down.

Things I want to work on next time I draw:

Body types!! I know when drawing in chibi style it's hard to show a character's actual body, but I want to make it obvious that this Gale is chubby!! I think widening the chest would help with that, and rounding out the torso in general as well.

Shading, as mentioned above. That might be something I have to practice with digital art, but maybe someone out there is an expert at colored pencil art and can throw me some advice.

I want to make him even Gale-ier. I wanted to include all his wrinkles and put some gray in his hair but the former is difficult in my style without making him look angry and the latter is hard when I don't have any silver drawing tools other than a regular pencil. I think he's pretty Gale-y already, but I want more.

I need to be more careful not to press my pencil in so hard when getting my shape down and sketching. I can see lines in the paper where the sketch happened :(

I gotta get a better idea of what his boots look like. And learn how to draw boots in general. Lol.