#Request anything yall

[thivell]

AROACE FOX INCOMING! BOOM POW CLASH ‼️

happy pride y’all, I’ll be doing request all month for characters and ships (if you send one in specify any flags or identities you may want one to have)

right now if you do request it will mainly be clone wars and bad batch but!!! As long as it’s Star Wars I’m perfectly happy with anyone!

[expiredsoda]

gratic phone shenanigans with @isas-bathbombs ✨

in-game doodles 👇

[cynsbasement]

go maid girl go

[scourgebff]

black bisexual scourge icon for pride month? yes

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

"I dunno. A car it's like... like I dunno I guess like," Steve bites his lip, leans back over the hood of his glorious beater he's been lovingly, 'n often painstakingly, fixin' up. There's a hotness burnin' up the back of his throat that pisses him off to no end. He shuts his eyes, runs a hand over his face, tries again.

"Like, when you work with a car there's just- like- there's kinda these-ugh!" Steve scowls. There are tears of frustration burnin' up behind his eyes 'n that just pisses him off more. He knows what he's trying to say so why can't he just say it.

"Take your time, man." Soda tilts his head to the side, absentmindedly pulls a thread out of his DX shirt. He's not like most guys Steve knows. The kind that make him feel like there was somethin' fuckin' wrong with him for needin' a minute to put his words in order. Or the kind that politely looked away when hot tears stacked up behind his eyes. No, Soda looked right at him like he had all the time in the world 'n he was spendin' it on purpose with Steve. Just waitin' on him to say what he meant.

God. Sometimes Steve felt like the luckiest guy alive. But then Soda leans over 'n steals the last bite of Steve's hotdog 'n the effect is mildy ruined.

Steve pulls his knees up across the hood 'n rests his head back on the windshield. He can feel the Tusla sun beatin' down even through his DX shirt. It had been a slow day. A Thursday in the middle of August when the end of summer clung to everythin' 'n hung heavy 'n slow in the air.

"When you're workin' on a car, only half of it is knowin'. You gotta be able to sorta sense some of it." Steve wrinkles his nose, shakes his head. "Does that make any sense?"

He peeks around his leg to see Soda. He's layin' flat on his back on the car parked beside Steve's. A beetle bug that they were supposed to be replacing the oil valve gasket in. But it would be a quick job 'n even Soda wasn't immune to the way August made you want to just sit still for a moment. The hood on Soda's was significantly more sloped 'n he kept almost slidin' off. But when Steve looks over Soda's got his head to the side, blinkin' at Steve, blonde hair fallin' in waves around his eyes.

"Oh. Like a horse." Soda nods to himself, almost slides right off onto his ass again.

"Huh?" Steve sits up, raises an eyebrow 'n Soda slips off the front, clambers onto Steve's beater.

"Like a horse." Soda's grinnin' wide with all his teeth like only Soda can.

"Ok. Wanna elaborate?" Steve have never gotten into the rodeo thing as much as Soda had. He'd go, sure. Hell, he'd ridden once or twice but he was never like Soda. He had loved those things. Well. Until.

"When you're ridin' a horse, right? You can't think about it like you 'n the horse are two separate things. The second you do that, that horse is gonna realize it don't want you on it one bit. You gotta sense what it wants. What it needs. 'Cause the horse sure as hell ain't gonna tell you. I figure, it's the same with a car, right? Like, sure, you can teach someone how to ride but they gotta have that extra somethin' that makes you good at it. You can teach any loser to fix a part but it takes somethin' to be a mechanic. Right?"

Steve blinks at Soda. Once, twice. Soda's eyes are bright 'n focused like they always are when he talks about ridin'.

"Yeah, somethin' like that."

"Well, that makes sense. You put that real good Stevie." And Steve snorts 'n doesn't remind him one bit that it was him that put it all together.

Soda grins at him, worries his lip, 'n slouches back down. "I miss it. Y'know?"

And Steve does know. 'Cause whatever you needed to go all the way? Soda had it. Soda absently runs his thumb around his kneecap, frowns.

That was the problem with these slow August days. They were fit for rememberin' even when you didn't want to.

"Hey, Steve?" Soda folds legs up under him, pushes his bangs from his eyes.

"Yeah, Sodapop?"

"I think you got it. Whatever it is. You're gonna make it big time. One day I'm gonna turn around 'n you're gonna be on the front of one of them car magazines." Steve's heart does a sudden, violent ache.

"Yeah, I'll be the girlie in the bikini, draped over some hot rod." Steve leans back on the windshield again, drops a hand to his forehead.

"Nah, that's my job. Lemme be the arm candy, it's all I'm good for." 'N Soda's grinnin' 'n laughin' but it's not funny. Really.

A car pulls into the DX 'n Soda slides off the hood 'n goes to take their gas. Two kids clamber out, hay clingin' to their clothes, wreakin' like a stable 'n huge grins plastered on their faces. Soda pulls up short, mid-step.

Steve hurries to catch up with him. Soda's got this kind of, longin' in his eyes, his smile waverin'. Steve puts a hand between his shoulder blades 'n Soda's grin pulls right back up at the corners like a puppet.

"Shame they ain't girlies, could have gotten a real sweet tip." Soda starts back up again, takin' long lopin' steps.

"Hey Soda!" Soda stops, spins halfway around. "Some people get it for one thing. Cars or horses or writin' or whatever. Whatever you got Soda? It's better than all that shit. 'Cause you don't fix up cars. You fix up people."

Soda blinks at him. "You didn't stutter or nothin'."

"I didn't." Soda tilts his head, the boys in the car hit their horn, a song blasts from a passin' truck, the sun beats down.

"Like horses?" Soda's hair is like a halo in the light, his eyes big 'n waitin'.

"Like horses."

[x-reader-things]

“I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Ekko x gn!reader [could be read as either romantic or platonic]

Summary ; In which you and Ekko help each other find your spark of creating again.

Requested? ; No. Self indulgent.

Warnings ; hurt / comfort, grief, a hint of survivors guilt but mostly just guilt in general, loss of a friend [unnamed uncanon character], not exactly a warning but hair is mentioned w / no specific hair type described.

Word count ; 2.3 k words

——————————————————————

You stare at the mural in front of you.

Tall and daunting. The tree grew around it like a shield, and the portraits were protected by the home built above in the branches.

Rain pattered on the ground. It had begun to soak through your clothes, dotted cold and unwelcoming on your cheeks. Slid off your head and yet caught into your hair at the same time. You were lucky it wasn’t pouring.

It smelled. A mix of petrichor and something putrid. No doubt from the smog that always left the sky over Zaun grey, and never clear enough for the sun to fully peak through. Such is the usual, for the undercity.

None of that mattered, though.

You were tasked - well, you took it upon yourself - to paint a portrait of another fallen Firelight. You were an artist like most of them were. You painted in your downtime for a while, up until recently.

The past year hadn’t been kind to you. Even with the Firelights being there, existing as a home. As a beacon of hope. For change. It wasn’t enough to fan the flames of the dimmed spark of creativity, that you longed to feel once again.

One failed mission after the next. An injury in your leg that had you benched for weeks. Chembarons were getting reckless, and enforcers were relentless - you feared when the other shoe would drop, when shit would hit the fan.

And then, the recent loss.

A close friend of yours.

The guilt was impudent. Almost impertinent. It seared into your bones like an angry flame that simmered and waited. Stars, you hated it so much. It never went away, no matter how much you tried to distract yourself by throwing yourself headfirst into work.

You took up more tasks despite the stinging twinge in your leg. You did more chores under the guise of letting fellow firelights take a break. Some meaningless and small, others bigger and more meaningful. Busying your mind so you didn’t have time to think too much.

And you took this task, especially, because you thought you could handle it.

You thought this would knock you out of your stupor, let you create again, out of respect for your fallen friend. Give yourself an outlet to let things be, let your mind be content, albeit in a melancholy way.

But the moment you stared into the blank space you were given to work with, all you could do was freeze.

One wrong move, and you’d fuck it up for good. One wrong stroke of a brush and a spray can would mess up the image of that friend.

And starting would ruin the blank space even more. It’d have marred the image you had in your mind, the one you needed to begin soon, lest you get sick from the rain. You didn’t want to mess it up.

You didn’t want to fuck it up.

You didn’t want to ruin the image of your friend.

The friend who you lost because the phantom pain in your leg grew too much to the point where it screwed up your footing on your hoverboard, made you swerve around an incoming bomb being thrown by a blue haired woman working for Silco, made you knock into your friend who lost their own balance and fell with a mind shattering scream, and then—

“Still haven’t started yet?”

Light thunder crackled in the distance, the rumbling amplified by your hyper vigilance.

Startled, you took in a sharp breath, and instantly turned to where you heard the voice from. You hadn’t even realized you were holding your breath in. Your lungs were grateful for the intake of air.

On the wooden balcony below you, you caught sight of the main firelight leader. Ekko.

Arms crossed, eyes tired, head tilted in the usual way he did while regarding something he needed to comprehend. The twisted locks of his hair moved with his head, vibrant against the greyed out colors surrounding you both. Usually, the grounds and the walls surrounding the firelight hideout were more colorful. Today, the rain made it more somber.

“I…”, you tried to form a viable excuse. Whatever your words were caught on the tip of your tongue, and refused to make themselves known. Your eyes flitted back to the blank part of the mural, and back to Ekko.

You wondered if he’d understand.

“I. Can’t.”

Your words were stilted. Hesitant. They cut through the rain like a knife. Unsettled in the air.

Ekko straightened up ever so slightly. He dipped his head the slightest bit lower, with a blink and a raise of his brows. His dark brown eyes urged you to continue.

“I-I can’t—“, you repeated, arms dropping to your sides in defeat. Your thoughts were buzzing in your mind and you couldn’t stop the words from flowing in time. They tumbled out in a jumble you swore on you could comprehend, and your arms gesticulated as you paced on the creaking wood below your feet.

“—every time I try, I just. Can’t. And I need to do this, I have to. I promised I would. And I can’t stop thinking about what happened but I need that to stop, I have to do this because they’re my friend and I can’t fuck this up, I can’t ruin the image of them. And I can’t fucking—“

You kicked a paint can at your feet. It soured over the ground below you, and felt to the grass well below the balconies.

“—bring myself to pick up a single one of these paint cans.”

Ekko’s eyes followed the paint can while it fell. It hit the dirt below, and the distant thump was drowned out by the rain. He clicked his tongue, and sighed with a shake of his head.

You were angry. You were grieving. It’s not like he could tell you to stop, nor would he ever. Any and every Firelight knew what it was like. Seeing you like this, though - abound with ideas, but with no spark, no drive anymore…

It reminded him too much of himself.

He was a leader. The leader of the Firelights. He focused his time on making their hideout a home. Bit by bit, he picked up the broken pieces of Zaun. Did his best to, at the very least. The chembarons, Silco and Shimmer proved difficult, along with Piltover.

With all that work, and all that responsibility, it left him restless. Left him exhausted. Even with the help of Scar, his second hand man, and many others within the community he created, it still weighed him down. Every time he opened that journal of his, without the need of making a blueprint for a new gadget to create, without the need for a map for a plan, the pages were blank.

When he tried, those pages were ripped. Those pages were full of jagged lines, or crinkled up and tossed to some corner of his messy room. He’d stare at those pages for hours, head in his hands, and wonder where the hell his spark went.

When did he lose it?

How?

Ekko took a few steps forward, and pulled himself up to the platform above. With a grunt, he heaved over the wooden railing as carefully as he could. The rain made everything they stood on wet, and prone to slip on. When he stood up, and dusted his hands off, he got a clear look at you.

You forced out a sound, a mix between a scoff and a wry laugh. Ran a hand over your head, and pushed water droplets flat onto your hair. Tore your eyes away from where the paint can used to be, and back to the mural. “Been stuck for months. And the one damn time I need to create, for them—“

You sharply gestured your arm out to the blank spot - an eerie crème colored sight compared to the rest of the wall, save for a few cracks - and your voice trembled. Water droplets fell from your hand as it flicked away from the top of your head.

“Hey—”, Ekko reached a hand out, and rested it against the opposite arm that stayed at your side. He grasped your elbow, and gave it a gentle tug. It tore your attention away from the wall, and back onto him. His voice was calm, almost somber. “— C’mon.”

He took in a breath, and his other hand made a breathe-in motion. You followed in suit, the smell of petrichor invading your nose, air filling your lungs. The tension in your shoulders went tighter.

After a few seconds, Ekko slowly breathed out. You followed him, and the tightness in your muscles faded ever so slightly.

Once Ekko was sure you were calm enough, he scoffed out a small breath, and the corners of his mouth twitched up in a wry sort of smile. It was small, but it was there.

“I… get what you mean”, he started. His voice was in a softer tone. One you didn’t hear as often, compared to his ‘Leader Voice’. It blended into the ambient noise of the rain, yet it was perfectly clear for you. Never broke the calm like the thunder did.

“When I got good enough, I started this—” Ekko looked at the wall behind you, an old ache settling into the small pinch between his brows. “—the mural. Thought that since i the skills, I could put this up. Thought that I could make something good, make something to remember them by, for...”

He sighed through his nose. You followed his gaze, and landed on the portraits you’ve known for years. Six portraits. The oldest ones. The same style, the same paint, the same process.

All were Ekko’s. The people he knew, before the Firelights had become The Firelights. Before he had to grow up as quick as he did.

“… your family?”, you asked tentatively, to complete the sentence for him. Ekko hummed in acknowledgment, and the smallest hint of a smile grew on his face.

“Yeah. My family.”, another sigh, and his shoulders dropped when he looked up at the rest of the mural. “Back then I created so much. Started this tradition, whenever we lost someone. Helped to create so many things for us. For the Firelights. A lot like you did, when you first started here, y’know? But now—”

Your eyes met again.

“—you can’t even look at a blank page anymore.”, you finished. He gently squeezed your elbow, and your hand had instinctively found its way to rest against his forearm.

“You get it”, he nods. “So…”

He let go of your arm to lean down and grab a paint can. Your hand lingered against the arm of his jacket, the outside of it already littered with dark spots from the rain. When Ekko stood up, he shook the spray can at his side. The mix bearing hit against tin of the can, and mixed the paint up enough to be properly used. After that, he took your hand off of his arm, and turned it so that your palm was facing up. He placed the paint can into your hand.

“—Let’s just… Take things slow. See how things go from there, alright?”

The cool metal of the can soaked into the skin of your hand. Your fingers curled over it, and tightened their grip.

“I don’t want to fuck this up.”, you whispered.

The very thought of starting the portrait you dreaded to creeped up from the back of your mind. The cold seeped back into your spine. You wouldn’t say it out loud but it terrified you to the very depths of your being.

“You won’t.” Ekko’s voice broke through the anxious haze that began to cloud your head again. His hand remained on the other side of the paint can in your hand. A promise that he wouldn’t leave you alone. “I got you. Besides—“

He gestured to your leg. A reference to the injury. “—standing up here alone for hours at a time won’t be good for that leg of yours. Figured you need someone to help when you need to rest it.”

You gave him a weak smile. A small thank you for the thought. He wasn’t wrong. Standing for that long would hurt. However…

“It’s gonna make it real, Ekko.”, the tremor in your voice returned. Warmth stung behind your eyes. Warm tears, against the cold air. “Losing them.”

The tremor in your voice this time had finally broken it into pieces.

“I know.”, Ekko murmured. He definitely knew. “It’s gonna hurt for a long time. But this—“

He waved his hand towards the mural. “—is the first step to healing. I’m gonna be right there with you.”

You nodded, and wiped a stray tear that fell from the corner of your eye.

“Alright.”

Ekko moved his hand away from the can, and you walked forward. You stepped on the creaking wood of the step stool in front of the mural. The intimidating blank stretch of the concrete felt way larger than it appeared. But when you took a deep breath, and caught the encouraging nod of Ekko when he went to your side a little ways away, the tension fell away.

The rain pattered calmly behind you.

The cold didn’t sting as deep. Neither did the guilt.

You shook the can at your side again, and raised it up to the wall. You sniffed once, and exhaled a shaky breath.

One spray after another.

One shape formed into an ear. Another, a nose. Soon the eyes.

And soon, a face. A little extra help from Ekko turned that face into a person. Your friend.

Nothing was marred, nothing was ruined.

And for once, the world seemed a little less cruel.

[manchesterau]

helloooo for the fic prompts thing… cat and bear halloween 2009? pls (no pressure) 🐱🐻

thank you anon! i love this prompt!

send fic prompts to keep phan high on the fandometrics pls

quick little halloween gathering fic under the cut 🐱🐻 ! hope you enjoy!

“Do you think I look silly?”

Phil stops in his tracks, turning to give Dan a once over.

If Phil were a little braver he’d say he thought Dan looked hot. The ears, haphazardly done eyeliner, and poorly drawn bear features would have anyone cooing over Dan. It made Phil want to kiss him until he couldn’t breathe, and even though their relationship was way passed the point of just being friendly he still finds himself hesitating when it comes to Dan.

So Phil settles on, “Uh, I think you look adorable.” And tries to stop his heart from beating out of his chest.

Dan rolls his eyes and continues walking. “I’m not trying to look adorable,” he says. “I’m a bear not a bunny.”

Phil runs to catch up with him, it’s night and they’re walking around London without a care in the world. They’re supposed to be meeting up with some friends for the Halloween gathering but Dan wanted to make a quick detour and get some coffee to warm them up.

“Well I think bears are adorable.” Phil mutters, his face is heating up and he hopes with the chill in the air he can blame it on being cold.

Dan bumps their shoulders together, his fuzzy covered hand briefly makes its way into Phil’s, squeezing lightly, and it’s so sudden he can barely react before it’s gone again.

If Phil were as brave as he thought he was he’d reach out and hold Dan’s hand again. Maybe if he were back home in Manchester he’d have kissed him already, but they’re not in Manchester they’re in London. Phil’s only been a hand full of times and while the city is so big and he knows no one is paying them any mind be can’t bring himself to do it. To bridge the gap and make a move, to qualm his beating heart.

He can tell he’s been quiet for too long because Dan taps him on the shoulder.

“You alright?” he asks. He’s giving Phil a look as if he’s scared he’s just done the wrong thing.

Phil quickly shakes his head and smiles. He is happy tonight, his best friend is with him and he’s out in London without his parents or his brother watching over him. Most importantly it’s Halloween, his favorite holiday. Tonight will be a good night, he just knows it will.

“I’m alright,” he says, just as they round the corner and see two zombies and a witch run up to a person dressed as Scooby Doo. Just down the road a bit, near a small fountain are growing groups of people and judging by the volume of the crowd that starts to steadily grow by the second, he can tell they’ve made it to the gathering.

His nerves start to dissipate when he spots a couple of mates. He grabs Dan’s arm and pulls him along.

“I see Aaron and Yaz.” Phil says, he hopes Dan can hear him over the loudness of everyone. They reach them and quickly say their hellos, a couple of people stop to chat with them. Video cameras have been pulled out, and Phil briefly wonders if he should have brought his to capture the night but he’s glad he gets to live in the moment instead.

Dan is chatting with someone dressed as a lady bug and Phil has somehow gotten someone to give him a plastic sword to wave around. The night has just started but he can tell it’s going to be a good one.

Somewhere in between chatting with a pirate about collabing on a Youtube video and trying not to lose Dan in the thick crowd, someone proposes they catch the tube to go get some good and walk around the shops.

Phil spins around to try and talk to Dan about the change in plans and finds that he’s already beside Phil, smiling at him.

“Are you hungry?” He yells, crowding in closer so that they can hear each other. Phil is well aware of the cameras lurking around but he can’t seem to care because Dan is looking at him with a twinkle in his eyes from the lights hung around and he’s so beautiful. Phil wishes they could have a moment alone so he can kiss this boy breathless.

Dan shrugs, “Yeah.”

They say goodbye to his mates and walk with a slightly smaller group of people to the nearest station.

Their shoulders bump as they walk, as close as they can be around a group of people they barely know.

“Are you having a good time?” Phil asks, just as someone walks by videoing the group as they walk.

Dan makes a small noise, “Yeah, I guess I didn’t expect it to be so many people.”

Phil nods, “It is a lot. Hopefully we can make it on the tube.”

They begin the decent down, going down the stairs in a crowd of people trying to go down and others just trying to leave is a bit of a hassle but soon they’re swiping their cards and making their way into the station.

It’s congested and a bit confusing, Phil almost trips over someone and their spider costume when he feels a hand on his back. He looks over at Dan who’s looking ahead and guiding them onto the proper tube with the group. Soon the hand on his back turns into an arm around his waist and Phil can’t help but lean back into it.

They’re standing together, holding onto the railing and Dan still has his hand around Phil’s waist. No one is paying them any attention and it’s too crowded for anyone to really see or care.

“Is this alright?” Dan asks quietly in his ear.

Phil can feel himself blushing, and judging by how red Dan is he can tell he feels the same. The butterflies he’s held in his stomach all night start to flutter and even though he’s nervous he’s also incredibly happy.

“Yeah,” he whispers back, slightly breathless and giddy with excitement. They don’t really do pda all that often if at all. They haven’t defined anything outside of promises to be in each other’s lives for as long as possible. There is something growing between them that both fills him with thrilling anticipation for what will happen next but also scares him to his core.

Growing up Phil always thought that when he was older he would be brave enough to go after the things he really wants.

He realizes he doesn’t have to be brave all the time, because sometimes Dan is brave enough for the both of them.

🐻🐱

[pumpkins-journal]

tired of angst tired of smut i like both but its so oversaturated rn that im like i want smthing else now i want fluff i want silly goofies and i also wanna make the silly goofies but i literally have. -0 ideas screaming and hollering

[jamandjazz]

And another half finished Parry drawing for you and you and you—

[do-you-know-this-queer-character]

Do you know this queer character?

Jon is Biromantic and Asexual, and uses He/Him pronouns!

Art by @ wellotwig on X

[northernfireart]

um idk if you're taking requests so sorry if i'm imposing but i would love to see 12 in your style :> have a nice day

it doesnt really count as my usual style, but I wanted to paint 12 for quite some time and missy just came along..... my little (not so) secret is that Peter's self portraits really inspire me and make me so happy for some reason so i went with a similar angle here which is also inspired by a photo of him holding a little tardis

and here's them separated.....pookies are separated

[twilightakiishi]

day 2: best way to a person's heart is through their stomach! ♡ 

"yamato. quit clingin' on me." "just one more!" mwah. ".......yama, please. you're so heavy. go cling on chika." "yeah right. I'd rather not have grill marks on my face." sluuuurp.

burgers for pookiebears. chika's tummy is rumbling! ♡ 

[ghost-proofbaby]

therapist told me today that maybe i shouldn’t go cold turkey on writing since it’s been such a key point in healing and coping in the past, so. im back and here.

[5432-fun]

this may sound strange but. d oes anyone have any italian or spanish tiles/patterns that i could maybe use as inspo for a fic???

[sapphire-to-the-rain]

a spooooky devil crystal :)

HELLO GI <3 i come bearing spooky devil crystal !!! just as requested!!!

(and thank you so much for the luck with my midterm tee hee)

[murdleandmarot]

lovely flower, slowly bloom, paint yourself with shades of blue 💙💙💙