#collab!

[marshbarks]

STYLE WEEK, DAY 1 💚💙 | collab w/@slobbykitty used the prompt aftercare, for vampire kyle bandaging up stan after feeding on him. they're so fun, i absolutely adore these two ♥

[acid-fangs]

Shall we have a joke? make a character trip over Jax's foot hehe

Oh hey Jax! did you see that Gangle finally has a new ma-

NOOOOOOOOOOO

[horimasoshi]

Me and @pnf427 (Jim!) did an art collab :DDDDD!

[shieldofiron]

Cry Me an Ocean (Runaways)

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Co-written with @discodeviant and also on ao3

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Steve and Billy have been just hooking up for months now, and Billy cries pretty much every time they have sex. He tells Steve it's automatic, he can't help it and Steve thinks it's kind of cute, after he gets over the initial panic.

He cries when Steve presses kisses into the back of his neck while he rolls his hips into him, cries when he goes down on Steve, lets Steve brush the tears away with his thumbs. And he cries when he’s inside Steve, presses his face into the crook of Steve’s neck and groans when Steve tells him how good it feels.

So when Billy's making plans to leave town at last, he goes over to Steve’s for one last time. He knows they aren’t dating so he promised himself he won’t say anything. But in the heat of the moment… he doesn't want to cry, because he doesn't want to close his eyes and miss this moment.

He just looks down at this… boy, who he can’t bring himself not to care for, and even though his eyes burn, he holds back, praying Steve doesn't mention it because then he'll cry harder than he ever has. He just couldn't take it if Steve knew how he felt, he'd just rip in half.

Steve brushes the curl off of Billy’s forehead, and presses a kiss to the cheek that’s normally wet with tears. He can tell something's going on. Something's not clicking and he hates that he doesn't know what it is and can't figure it out. Steve’s been feeling it since the moment Billy waltzed through the door. But he doesn’t even know how the hell he could start to figure it out. Because how the hell could he? They fuck and Billy cries, he doesn't know anything else about the guy.

Afterwards he holds Billy and he decides… fuck it, "I never thought I'd say I missed the crying. You ok?"

Billy tries with everything he has to keep his voice even, "Yeah, pretty boy, I'm good."

But he's not good at all and it's really obvious. His voice cracks, and he's trembling. Steve rubs his back gently and Billy doesn't want to fucking leave, but he knows he has to. It's killing him because he was so sure… and now he's torn all to pieces because he let himself get attached.

Steve just rubs his back and whispers, "You know... I'm more than just a big dick... I have pretty big ears too... good for listening…”

Which makes Billy laugh, which makes him really cry.

"Yeah you do have pretty big fuckin' ears." He touches one and just fucking loses it because he's never been intimate with somebody like this, where he just wants to know and hold every itty bitty detail even down to Steve’s ears.

Steve just kisses his tears away, “So, who am I beating up?”

 "Me, because I'm fucking stupid." California bound and leaving the one person he's ever actually fallen in love with. Fuck, he's really done it now.

Steve just laughs, "Aww, i'd never beat you up. Like you too much."

Billy can only look at him, at his rumpled hair in the dim room, and think, it'd hurt less than leaving you.

But he can’t completely bring himself to say it. Not now, not when he feels like he could shatter from another soft word.

He’d planned to leave in the morning but he falls asleep under Steve’s soothing touch and wakes up in Steve's arms and in the morning light. And it all seems even stupider than ever.

Steve wakes a few moments after Billy sits up and tries to take a few deep breaths to calm himself, and swipe at the tears that have escaped down his cheeks.

Steve reaches a hand out and brushes Billy’s side, “You slept ov-”

“I’m leaving.”

“Well, it’s kind of early, but yeah, you don’t have to stay,” Steve pulls back and runs a hand through his hair.

“No. I’m leaving Hawkins.”

Steve inhales, "You're leaving?"

"Shit, Steve, I don't know anymore--"

"For how long? Where? When?"

Billy cries harder, burning his face in his hands and trying to stifle the noises.

Steve just frowns, "Damn. And I was going to ask you to go to California with me."

Billy freezes, but tears keep rolling down his face.

"I was thinking in the fall," Steve shrugs, "When it starts to get cold. A-as friends... or... I dunno... anyway, you know all the spots to go."

Billy exhales shakily, and turns to look at him. Steve’s so… everything. So plain yet overwhelming, curled up in his navy sheets with his morning breath.

"Friends. Yeah, alright.”

But it's dripping with sarcasm and they both damn well know it, and it's quiet for a while. They're still sticky with sweat but Billy's still there, he hasn't left yet, and he asks, "Would you really come with me?"

Steve reaches out, tentatively, and pulls Billy back into the bed, back against Steve’s chest.

And Billy has to whisper, "It has to be now. Today. My Dad's gone."

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The next time Billy cries is when Steve lays him down in the motel bed in Nebraska.

Billy thinks he's being selfish about the whole thing because he wants– needs– Steve so fucking badly. And yeah, maybe it's the most insane and reckless thing Steve has done in his goddamn life, but he needs Billy too. So, Nebraska for a night. Then Nevada, and that's when Steve cries.

Billy stops riding him, shaking hands digging into Steve’s face, "Is it home? Do you want to go back? I wouldn't have–"

Steve just swipes at his face and lays a hand over Billy’s, "Nah. I just realized I'm in love with you. It's cool."

Billy just looks down at him for a moment, bleary because he's starting to cry too, and everything's slowing down. Steve is fucking beautiful inside and out, and Steve is in love with him, and Steve is at a motel with him in Reno-fucking-Nevada because he wanted to go with him. So he leans over and kisses the fuck out of Steve, and they're both crying. Billy starts riding him again all slow and overwhelmed but it's the best night either of them have ever had.

Billy doesn't think too much about saying it back because he's not the best with words like that, but by then he bets that Steve likes to hear those things out loud. So when they're worn out and snuggling up for the night, he gets real close to Steve's ear and whispers, "You know I'm in love with you too." 

Steve nods. "Yeah, man. You ran away with me. You love me so bad"

Billy snorts, hiding his face in Steve's neck, "Shut the fuck up"

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When Billy sees the ocean again, he doesn’t cry. He just looks, hand folded into Steve’s. He doesn’t cry when the sun sets, and they sit on the beach until it turns cold.

But that night, when Steve pressed him against the door to their little cheap motel room, and kisses down his throat, he chokes on a sob.

“We did it,” Steve murmurs against Billy’s clavicle. “We did it.”

Billy grips Steve’s shoulder, plying his fingers through the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck.

“You’re free, Billy,” Steve whispers, “It’s okay.”

Billy can’t help it. Same as loving Steve, he can’t stop himself from crying. It’s automatic.

[roetrolls]

(woagh! we did it again!! it's a collab between me and Chase @sasster! Look, there's a google doc!)

Appraisal

Emarra is still drunk on attention when he returns to his trailer, buzzing with adrenaline and the thrill of a crowd. He expects Sylvie will follow him here soon enough, his little sprite always so eager for his praise after a successful show. 

He’s already imagining what he’ll say to her, turning the words over in his mind as he busies himself removing his jacket and pushes past the beaded curtains into his home.

“Yumeno.”

He freezes. Now there’s a voice that will kill a mood.

Ever the performer. Emarra is quick to reel himself in, shocked expression melting into a smile tight enough to rival Faithful.

“General.”

An unscheduled visit from the Marauder rarely spells good news, but retiring for the morning to find the man waiting in your home? That’s a level of horror all its own. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks through gritted teeth.

Zerkev has already made himself comfortable–if such a word can even be used to describe such a straight-laced troll–in the seat by the window, gaze hard and stern. 

“Sit.”

It is always cumbersome dealing with fuchsias that feel they can just walk into his home and tell him what to do. Resentment leaves a sick taste in the back of his mouth as he takes a seat opposite to the general.

“There’s no chance that what you’re here to talk about could have been a text message, I’m guessing.”

Zerkev’s expression tightens, not one for jokes on a good day, let alone on one where he is already beyond the threshold of having patience for the man.

“Why have you not found Mallum yet?”

Well, of course that’s what this is about. What else would The Marauder be making home visits for? There are so many ways Emarra can answer that question too, and they all flash in his mind one after the other.

Chiefly, he has been busy with his circus, and also it isn’t his job to play Pravus line babysitter.

Neither of these answers, however, would be met with the most pleasant of responses, so he swallows them down with the taste of resentment that now coats his throat.

“He’s in the company of professionals. You know that.”

“I was under the impression that you were a professional, Yumeno.”

“Gracious and the Roatus kid can’t find him either,” by the grace of God, he manages to swallow the indignance that tries so hard to claw its way out. “It’s going to take me some more time.”

“More time?”

Something snaps behind the general’s eye, perhaps his last thread of patience, something that somehow does not influence the rest of his expression.

Instead, Zerkev sits there stone-faced.

“Just a little patience, I’ll find him.”

“Mm,” comes the muted response. The seadweller stares a moment longer, gaze boring into Emarra with a scrutiny so intense he has to suppress the urge to shift in his seat. “Would you say you’ve been distracted from this task?”

Emarra all but scoffs at the accusation. Was he expected to put his entire life on hold until the kid was found? That’s a ridiculous idea, even for someone as work-focused as the Marauder.

“No,” he answers shortly, stopping himself before anything more insulting can tumble from his mouth.

Zerkev raises an eyebrow. “That so? I’d say otherwise, personally.”

He reaches into the jacket of his uniform to withdraw a phone. It’s almost comical how out of place the thing seems in his hand, but Emarra is in no mood for humor.

After a few seconds, Zerkev brandishes the screen, playing a short, looping clip of a shadow unfurling along someone’s wall. 

The Ringleader feels a brief twinge of satisfaction as he makes note of the tiger-shaped nightlight by the bed, one corner of his mouth twitching as if to smile.

Then he squares his jaw, lifting a blank gaze back to his uninvited guest.

“What am I meant to be looking at here?”

The general cocks his head. “You tell me.”

“It’s a recording on your phone, why would I have that information?”

With a nod, Zerkev pockets the device once more and leans forward on his knees, fingers laced together. He pauses a moment, expression deceptively placid, before answering. 

“I know you’ve more sense than to lie to my face.”

The statement, simple as it is, is easy to identify as a thinly veiled threat. Emarra, having worked with the general long enough to detect that threat a mile away, leans back into his chair as if trying to put some more distance between himself and the fuchsia. It takes some effort to conceal the panic working hard to bubble up through his chest, but he manages even then to keep his gaze level.

”Then you should know that I am not lying, to your face or otherwise.”

Zerkev purses his lips, and though his expression does not shift to betray him, he does possess the uncanny ability of letting his disappointment and irritation poison the atmosphere of the room without such dramatic shifts. 

The Ringleader very briefly finds his thoughts drifting back to the other’s missing son. Yeah, I’d run away too if this guy raised and was looking for me, no question. Poor thing must’ve had an intolerable adolescence.

Locked in a terrible staring contest with his boss, Emarra then takes the opportunity to sift through a mental list of his choice in extracurricular activities up to this point. He risks being skinned alive if he admits how lax he has actually been about finding Mallum in the many perigees that have passed between now and his being given the assignment.

He risks a fate worse than that if he so much as breathes word about harassing that damn runaway of his own in the meantime.

Zerkev clears his throat, the time limit on his second chance at honesty clearly reaching its end.

“Are you telling me that you think every time something goes bump in the day that it will have something to do with me? Come on. Be real, Zerkev. I have a life, you know.”

A disappointed click of the tongue is his only response. Is he really tsk-ing him right now? Beneath his indignation, an invisible fist constricts around Emarra’s lungs, abated only slightly by the thin shred of hope that spawns in him as the seadweller rises to his feet.

Did that actually work?

Zerkev fiddles with his cufflink and hefts a weary sigh, staring ahead of himself as if lost in thought.

“Yumeno?”

For fuck’s sake, would he just go already? “Yes?”

Without warning, the Marauder’s hand shoots out to grasp Emarra by the hair, yanking him from his chair by the scalp. The motion wrenches a pitiful yelp from his lips, palms grasping at his assailant’s wrist in an effort to relieve the pain.

“I thought I told you not to lie to me, son.”

His voice, perfectly level, belies no hint of anger. He might as well be asking about the weather for all his tone suggests.

“Zerkev–” 

The grip on his hair, already ironclad, grows tighter. 

“General Pravus, sir,” Emarra corrects himself breathlessly, a nervous chuckle catching in his throat. It would be unwise to double down he thinks, but… Ah, screw it. He’s a carnie at heart. Honesty has never been his virtue. “I have a show to run. You really think I’m wasting my precious time on pointless games?”

Zerkev regards him carefully, lips pressed into a line. The silence hangs over them like lead, suffocating enough to prompt another anxious plea from the clown.

“You know how Maelia treats me! Why would I go looking for trouble under his nose?”

“Hm.” The general blinks slowly, fingers still wound tightly in the purpleblood’s hair. “I suppose you wouldn’t, would you?”

Emarra nods the best he can with his head practically glued to the man’s hand, eyes blown wide. “Exactly! I–”

“Yumeno.”

“Sir?” He swallows, choking down his pride with some hope of warding off the venom that lurks behind that stony expression.

“Did I tell you that was Drakon’s hive?”

Emarra’s stomach drops like a stone, the panic he’s been working so hard to suppress now lurching to the surface, plain as day on his face. Zerkev’s expression is unflinching, much like the tight and fearsome grip he maintains on the Ringleader’s hair. 

A reply is hard to come by under that icy glare, but eventually the clown manages to find his voice.

“Wh-Why else would you be so upset?” he stammers, choking on his own desperation. “Everyone knows how you get about your privacy.”

The way Zerkev’s lip twitches, it’s clear that was not the answer he wanted.

“My livin’ with Drakon is public knowledge now, is it?” His tone, low before, turns downright dangerous. It’s a miracle he hasn’t ripped Emarra’s hair right out of his scalp.

Past the edges of his own hubris, the purpleblood can see that he is being given one final chance to come clean. As much as he hates the man, he can’t deny that the Marauder’s patience is astounding. Any other fish would have flown off the handle ages ago.

He swallows, fingers still clasped around the general’s assaulting wrist, and selects his next words with care.

“I made a mistake,” he says slowly, heart lodged in his throat.

“A mistake?” Zerkev echoes incredulously, almost amused at his audacity.

“A poor choice.”

“I’ll say. Unless you wanna tell me spyin’ on my home was a necessary part of the process?”

“I… I was just messing with the kid,” Emarra finally admits, voice small.

“Instead of lookin’ for mine.”

“Both! I was doing both! You couldn’t have expected me to drop my entire life for you!”

Zerkev exhales slowly, something between a growl and a sigh. It’s all the warning Emarra gets before the general throws his arm to fling him face-first into the wall, the ache in his scalp quickly replaced by a new searing pain and the scent of blood in his nose. He loses his footing in the toss and crumples to the floor in a heap, hissing quietly.

Before he has the chance to catch his bearings, the Ringleader feels a cold-toed boot upon his neck.

“I’d say I’m a reasonable man, Yumeno, wouldn’t you?” He grinds his shoe into the base of Emarra’s skull before easing up, not waiting for an answer. “So here’s what I think sounds reasonable.”

Still somewhat dazed, he can only grimace in response as Zerkev grabs him by the collar and hoists him to his feet to slam his back against the wall.

“You’re gonna get one warning. Keep that greasy nose out of my business. Leave my mate and his family alone. And find my goddamned son. Are we understood?”

Emarra squares his jaw and nods.

“Are we understood?”

His teeth are as good as dust with how hard he grits them. “Yes, sir.”

Zerkev regards him carefully, eyes flitting across his face as he, perhaps, tries to gauge the man’s sincerity. Emarra can’t help but bristle. Can’t he let him go already? What more does he fucking want?

The general frowns, evidently displeased by whatever attitude he can still detect on his underling’s face. The clown prickles under his scrutiny, for once facing down a type of attention he would sooner escape. Then, all at once, that attention is drawn elsewhere, to the small voice that sounds beyond the room’s beaded entrance. 

“Emarra!”

Though Zerkev doesn’t release the purpleblood’s collar, his grip loosens considerably, just in time for Sylvie’s innocent, four-eyed face to push its way into the scene. Those eyes become saucers when they land on the Marauder, the woman’s delicate features overtaken by fear.

“General Pravus,” she squeaks, gaze darting between him and her ringmaster.

Zerkev nods in greeting, venom all but evaporated, and Emarra thanks the Messiahs for his sprite’s timely arrival.

“I-I, um…” She shoots him another anxious glance, hand unconsciously drifting toward her own nose as she spies the blood leaking from his. “I didn’t know you would have… company.”

“I was just leavin’,” the general answers, though he makes no move to do so.

Another silence descends on the trailer, with Zerkev’s pensive gaze now settled squarely on the mutant. Emarra can practically see the gears turning in his head, and he only wishes it could come as a surprise when the man opens his mouth again.

“I just got one more thing to square away ‘fore I go. Miss Selari, hon, would you mind steppin’ outside a minute? Won’t be long.”

Sylvie hesitates, again looking to the clown. With an agitated grimace, he sighs and gives her a nod. The sooner they can get this over with, the better.

His approval eases her enough to acquiesce, and soon enough she is padding back out on light and silent feet, the gentle rattle of beads all that announces her departure. The moment that faint click subsides, Zerkev’s attention is back on Emarra.

“She’s sweeter than you deserve.”

The Ringleader balks at him, the tameness of the insult somehow a bigger slap than his previous scathing reprimands. He doesn’t care what the bastard thinks of him, obviously, but it’s not the type of comment he expects during this kind of performance review.

“How long’s it been now? That you’ve had her?”

“This is what you’re hanging around to talk about?”

Evidently, the question was rhetorical, as Emarra’s non-answer glances ineffectually off the general’s chest. He finally releases him and steps away, at least, allowing the clown some room to breathe while he prepares to prattle on.

“Mallum’s always been a bright kid, you know. Wicked bright. Bit more self control and he’d be unstoppable.”

“Uh-huh,” the purpleblood responds, his irritation palpable.

“He had a hard time with schoolfeeding. Lacked discipline, always got distracted with other things. Ain’t his fault– We’re a species built on base impulse. Same reason we don’t rear our own young.”

What the fuck is he even talking about right now?

“Most trolls lack the ability to self-regulate. We found with Mallum… It sometimes helped to remove the distractions for him. He hated me for it, ‘course, but it did him good in the end.”

“I’ll remember that next time I decide to become a lusus,” Emarra deadpans, wiping the blood from his nose.

Zerkev locks eyes with him, placid expression once again turning grave.

“Yumeno. The next time you force me out here to remind you of your job, I’m taking Miss Selari back with me.”

[a2dare]

Hello! I participated in @tf-bigbang for the first time and got to collaborate with @skywarp206, where I had the chance to create some illustrations for her fic! And yes, Skold and Waspinator are the main characters 👀

These are the previews of my illustrations. The full results of our collaboration will be posted around September 22-24!

[the-axe-and-flail]

Idk with what, but I would love to collab with you about something Gyomei related. It doesn’t have to be this massive thing either it just… Has to be something

Ahhhh I would LOVE that!

It's been a bit since I've done a collab but there are some fun things we can do like swapping prompts for short stories/drabbles, or headcanons, or art. Or maybe like a single prompt where one writes part one and another writes part two?

We can even do simple things like just do a co-character analysis and talk about him and our favorite parts of his story or parts of him we want to highlight or feel don't get enough attention. There is a lot of fun things honestly and I'd love to do any of them with you ☺️

Definitely jump in my DMs and let's chat!

[abandoned-dezxyre]

OUR FIRST PROPER MAGMA!!! :D

We had a lot of fun watching others draw, even if this was our only contribution!

Joined @zkev 's Moony boi just sittin and chillin!

(Layering doesn't work well on mobile so I'm uncolored lol-)

- Glow!!

[nginiamhim]

HAPPEE BIRTHDAY, TOXEEC!! Master, nitrus brio and i cooked you up sometheeng special for your beeg day... HOOREY, HOOREY!! @toxic-gin @drnitrusbrio-science @cortexrules

[moku-and-his-madness]

AYYYOOOOOO!!!! NEW COLLAB JUST DROPPED!!!!

Bienvenidos a México tontos

in the STUFF artspace w/@paradox-hq

left is mine right is theirs

Translations:

¿por qué llevas un sombrero y un poncho mexicanos?( why are you wearing a mexican hat and poncho?)

Los Mexicanos saludan. (the mexicans say hi)

[orchidyoonkook]

y'all. the way i am so excited for this new upcoming project with my darling co-writer. it's going to be so good. LIKE SO GOOD. I'm stoked

[marshbarks]

style week, day 4: band au! 💚💙 collab w/ @slobbykitty

a scene from a fic that adrian is writing, stan tried to give kyle his number and it did not go in his favor.

context under cut!

fic snippet, written by adrian ♥

[seabunnies-sideblog]

It's all put together!

The beans!

Collabs with @galaktianexplosion

[collabwithmyself]

Based on a conversation some of my friends had about Dipper and Mabel becoming warriors kids- I can't take credit for the idea or dialogue, but it WAS fun bringing it to life.

[beidak-art]

Ingrained

This was done in collaboration with @grozat. It's the first time we're actually posting something like that, but definitely not the least 💚 Nothing compares to the experience of creating a single piece together with your beloved person.