#drew the normal version of his angel version finally

[shimomcdragon]

POV: oil

[impishjesters]

I have this idea floating around in my brain for a while about a reader who likes to draw and because they have a crush on Jax they draw him. Jax eventually steals their notebook and probably teases them about it lol.

Jax x Crushing!Reader

warning(s): innuendos, bullying/teasing, Jax note(s): Look it's me and Jax, there's gonna be innuendos or some spicy wording and bullying. It's like a packaged deal or something. A/N: If you see me mixing Angel Dust's speech into Jax, no you didn't. If you didn't notice, I don't know how to tease and not be an asshole, so pretty on the brand I guess.

Caine had given you a sketchbook upon request, it was a little different than an actual sketchbook but it did the job regardless. Ever since your arrival, your fingers have been itching to draw, there were so many new sights and so much new inspiration.

There were so many things, so why did it seem like the doodles of Jax ended up on almost every page?

Easy, you had a crush on the apathetic, mischievous jerk named Jax.

Why? Well, now that’s the million-dollar question. He’s not inherently awful, no, that’s a lie, he’s an asshole. You don’t really have a good read on him yet but he’s funny! That’s gotta be redeemable, right? However, his jokes are usually backhanded and often involve being mean at the expense of others.

Okay so he’s a walking red flag but there’s something about him that has you crushing on the purple bastard.

Looking down at the sketchbook on your lap shows another two pages filled with sketches of random things, though most of the page is filled with Jax. You had taken to sketching things back in the real world to remind yourself of home, but eventually, those sketches would involve Jax doing mundane things.

Thing’s like sitting at a table eating real food, though you took creative measures when drawing an open mouth on him, it still looked off but it was serene and domestic. Then there’s the little sketch at the bottom of the page of Jax leaning against a window and staring outside. You’d manage to nab the pose and angle when he was leaning against one of the many random geometrical-shaped things in the main room and later added in a window.

It was embarrassing that almost more than half of the pages in the book involved Jax to some degree. Some pages weren’t even subtle, the whole page taking up a detailed portrait version of the male. Sometimes you even got creative and put him in different clothing.

Thumbing through the pages you saw there weren’t that many empty pages left. You’d need to ask Caine for another one and figure out what to do with this one. It couldn’t be left out in the open, you knew Jax had keys to everyone’s room and wouldn’t put it past him to go snooping. He’d already questioned you about the sketchbook before.

You’d been so focused on the sketchbook that you hadn’t noticed the man of the hour walking up. Jax noticed your intense focus and peeked over to see the infamous sketchbook on your lap, and with practiced ease managed to yoink it right off your lap.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? You finally showing me what you keep your nose buried into?��

A yelp left you, stumbling to get on your feet you rushed to him and began swatting at the book and of course, he’d keep raising it just out of reach. “You took it! I didn’t say you could look at that!”

“Nah, pretty sure you said I could look at it.” He continued to lower and raise the book as you jumped to grab it. Sure he was curious before, but with a reaction like that? How could he not be even more curious? What kind of seedy shit were you drawing? Or perhaps some spicy nonfamily-friendly content?

Jax ignored your frantic words and opened the book to a random page, he was going to tease you about whatever dumb stuff you drew since you always had your nose in it but all he saw were sketches of himself.

A normal person might get embarrassed and hand the book back, but he’s not a normal person. It’s a little freaky, he won’t lie. A glance downwards shows him you’ve gone silent in front of him, simply staring down while he invades the privacy that was your sketchbook.

Your face is red and you look like you’re going to cry any second.

He’s a jerk, he was going to fuck with you, and he still is, but for the moment he’s taking in all the creative little pieces involving his face. Ya know, he never really thought much about how he’d look in other clothes. Gotta say he looks pretty snazzy in something that isn’t these shitty overalls.

“You know if I didn’t know any better,” his fingers still flip through the pages as he steps closer, circling you. “I’d say you like me.”

“I don’t.”

The reply is rushed and he rolls his eyes at the blatant lie, he’ll humor you this time. “Oh yeah? Does that mean you’ve got sketchbooks for everyone else too? Cause I’m pretty sure this is the only one I’ve seen you with.” He taps a doodle on the cover that gives away it’s the same notebook he always sees you with.

Tears trickled down your cheeks, you knew he was a jerk but this felt like too much. You just wanted your sketchbook back and to run away to your room, maybe pin something in front of the door that would render even the key useless.

His eyes roll the second he sees a tear, he’s not really seeing the problem here. You’ve got a book full of creepy—okay not completely creepy, he’s a good model so good on you for seeing that—sketches of him and he’s truthfully honored. It’s clear that you didn’t do this with everyone, so he’s honored to be your little model. Besides, it’s not like you actually have a crush on him, right?

Minutes tick by of him simply eyeing you, you’re still crying and it’s starting to get a little ugly and snotty, ugh. But you aren’t trying to further deny his little comment about you liking him. He’ll have to have a little talk about that later, what you could possibly see in him because he knows that you aren’t a sadist—oh, are you a masochist? That’d explain a lot.

Jax sighs and closes the book but doesn’t hand it over, simply putting the free hand on his hip. “You know if you wanted to see my face all you gotta do is ask. I’ll gladly show you this handsome face any day toots.”

Of all the things you thought he’d say, that wasn’t it. “H-huh..?” You embarrassingly wipe away the tears and snot before looking up at him.

“You heard me. Ya know I love this face too, very handsome. Maybe we can get Caine to put up some artwork in the tent of yours truly.” Jax wouldn’t consider himself vain, but you did have a way of making him look more, dare he say, attractive.

“I-I don’t… I don’t understand…” Was he still making fun of you?

He rolls his eyes before playfully hitting your head with the book. “Jeez, and here I thought you were smart.” Jax leaned over like he was speaking to a child and pushed the book to your chest. “I’m saying, the next time you wanna draw me I’ll give you a front-row seat. Maybe even take it to the bedroom so we won’t be disturbed.”

You push the book into his face to cover up that growing smirk and blush furiously. “Wh-what?! N-no I-I don’t…!” It’s hard to tell if he’s being serious or not in his offer to model for you, especially with the bedroom comment.

“C’mon, clearly you got taste. I mean that book is filled with sketches of me. I’ll commend you on your immaculate taste.” Jax taps the book before playfully bopping your nose. “At least let me give you the pleasure of seeing me close up. I’ve never been a model before so you might have to get a little hands-on to get me the way you want me.”

As the innuendos continue your face feels like it’s getting impossibly red and warm. Somehow this is worse than him telling you a sketchbook full of his face is creepy, in fact, you’d almost prefer it because your poor little heart can’t take anymore. You let out a yell and it stops his tangent but that stupid smirk of his never disappears.

“Offer still stands. You know where to find me.” Jax turns away but not before throwing a little wink over his shoulder. He still plans on pestering you about what you see in him, but for now, he’ll cut you some slack. You’re about as red as Ragatha’s hair and as much as he loves to see it, he didn’t plan to get this sidetracked when he saw you on your own.

He’s got a sucker to prank.

[hazbinhazmeinachokehold]

Alastor + apprentice!child!reader

A/n: this is some practice to get a footing in his character. (Also slight practice on husk as well.)

Reader is kinda scary but means well overall

Not proofread

Y/n ever elusive. Alastor would randomly mention your name in conversations. References your rampages and your sweetness in the same breath. But when anyone would try to quiz him on you further he would act like he didn't know what they were talking about. He might try to claim it's for privacy but it's pretty obvious he just likes messing with hotel members.

Charlie was especially sad that she might never get to meet you. If Alastor was to be believed you seemed really sweet! (And easy to rehabilitate *cough* *cough*) Also cool! You seemed to be an absolute powerhouse. After Al mentioned you Charlie got somewhat mopey. Until he mentioned you visiting the hotel, which piqued everyone's interest.

When you finally showed up, people's interest was at an all-time high. But now it was because the fabled y/n was a child. "It's a pleasure to be meeting everyone!" You were looking at Alastor but were speaking to the whole room. "I've heard so much about all of you!"

"They've also heard much about you too, dearie." Alastor bent at the waist down to your level. "You've become quite the hot topic here!"

As if to prove his point Charlie picked you up and spun you around almost hitting Alastor in the face. He glared at her but remained calm. "Welcome, welcome! Do you want to choose a room to stay in?"

"Sorry, but I'm not planning to stay."

"I know but just for the time being." Charlie clarified. To that, you nodded. Husk snapped his head toward The Radio Demon once both you and Charlie had left.

"Did you really stoop low enough to make a deal with a child?" He was just barely containing his anger. While he didn't particularly care for those he didn't know at least somewhat personally, taking a child's soul was a place he drew a thick line.

"Why of course not!" He said sounding offended but clearly, it was to mock Husk. "They are under my guidance purely by choice!" Vaggie and Husk both said some version of 'you're a liar' in unison. Alastor simply tsked as he walked away.

Niffty seemingly appeared out of nowhere. "Was thas thay y/n?"

After the crew (excluding Husk) let out a yelp, Vaggie spoke, "Yep."

Niffty let out a villain-esque laugh, though that was just her usual laugh, "I've been meaning to talk to them since they scared off a group of bad boys~" She flashed her sharp teeth and held a knife. Angel grabbed the knife and her before she could get very far.

Back with you and Charlie Alastor materialized next to you and you waved at him.

"Hello, sir!" You saluted him as a joke.

"Hello to you too! Have you found a room?" You nodded and entered said room. Charlie looked at him, her face painted with a confused yet kind look.

"They're the one who hurt so many people? Are you kidding? They are so nice."

"You've never seen them in danger." Suddenly as if on queue an explosion was heard. You shot up from your surprisingly comfortable bed and ran downstairs. Pushing both Charlie and Alastor out of the way while also throwing a quick ‘sorry’ their way.

Once you got downstairs the bad boys that Niffty mentioned earlier were spouting something about you. Once they looked at you they pulled weapons out. You grew and your arms turned pitch black with a slight claw shape. With your new size, you were just big enough to grab them to the point of almost cracking bones. Almost.

"Leave." You said with a deep booming voice that came with the size. You threw them and they scrambled. Once they were gone you shrunk back down to your normal size. Niffty pouted and stamped her foot.

Once you turned everyone had varying looks of shock on their face except Niffty and of course, Alastor who was instead proud. "Congrats dear! Would you like some jambalaya?" You nodded.

As you were walking with him Husk grabbed your shoulder, "Um good job kid... If he ever offers you a deal, don't take it." He felt obliged to warn you. If Alastor's moral code was against recruiting kids, he probably would have pounced on the opportunity to take your soul once you were an adult.

You smiled, "I know I know. But what could I even gain out of any deal with him?" You laughed and walked back to Alastor. Huh. Well, you certainly were being tutored by Alastor.

A/n: Y/n got kinda of edgy at the end-

[ultralightpoe]

Can you do something with eddie and someone from scream? That don't really make sense but like the reader is a survivor of ghostface and kind celebrity for it. Like Sydney through the movies? There would be a time change but like that? That would be so amazing. I would give my left nut for that tbh. I don't have a left nut. But i gove one if I could.

Final Girl - Eddie Munson

Authors Note: This was from march, and I am cleaning out my drafts for y'all

Warnings: Slasher, wounds, eddie being a confused lil bug.

Word Count: 3813

Description: Eddie meets a final girl, and apparently trauma bonds

Enjoy!

College life sucked. 

This wasn’t an actual shock to Eddie Munson, since he had never been great at school in the first place. Come on, he had been a super senior. Eddie Munson, who normally spent his life in fantasy could at least be realistic about ONE thing, he was not really meant for school. 

But…. not many people got a second chance at life and not many people were given a full ride scholarship from the government. 

Jason Carver, the ‘King of Hawkins High’, had taken the fall for Chrissy Cunningham. Eddie was released of any and all convictions, and the government had ‘thanked’ him. But he didn’t stop there, Eddie demanded something in return since he nearly died from the bats. So, Eddie Munson the super senior graduated with the help of his friends and Eddie Munson got a full ride scholarship from the government. 

Wayne was able to open up his own contracting business and Eddie was able to move to his new college knowing that he would not die in Hawkins. 

But that meant actually attending classes in college, something that Eddie found himself despising. More grumpy than not in the mornings he found himself ignoring the life around him, grumbling to himself as he trudged through the autumn leaves, his converse beginning to soak through from the rain that drenched the earth. 

There was one good thing about mornings though, and that was who he sat by in his intro to Shakespeare class….You. 

You were everything. Or at least Eddie thought so. 

You always had a book with you in class, mostly fantasy which drew him in. You always looked angelic, even on days where you definitely just woke up, and most importantly you never talked to him like he was stupid which most people at this school had done. But most importantly he liked that you seemed to be fine on your own, whereas most of the class was desperate for friends. You were just fine sitting in the back like you didn’t care.

But that led to his next problem, he desperately wanted to get to know you. 

He had tried to make conversation in the past, but the words never came out right and class was always packed with work so he never really got the chance to break the ice with you, but everyday he told himself that ‘Today is the day I’m going to talk to her’.

So he talked himself up on the way to class, fixing his rings as he tried not to focus on how cold his feet were before he was sitting beside you, the chain on his pants scraping in the chair as everyone bustled to their seats around him. 

He waits patiently for you to join the class, taking a moment to survey the room of all your other shared classmates. 

The front row held a cheerleader that reminded him of Chrissy, the sweet angelic smile and the same ponytail, the only problem was he had heard this version say a few icy things to her classmates and Eddie liked to think that Chrissy would have never. 

There was a kid named Paul that sat just a row below him, three seats to the right. Whereas Eddie was more of a leather jacket rock and roll type Paul was all about the punk, mohawk dyed neon colors and piercings decking out his face. He always gave Eddie a rock on sign whenever they made eye contact and Eddie liked the minor alliance. 

Before he could recognize anyone else you were pulling into your seat, rubbing your arm as if you were in pain as Eddie whips to smile at you. He gets nervous when you raise an eyebrow before giving him a tight lipped smile like he was crazy, then he realizes that his smile was a little too wide and he was the one sending crazy vibes so he simply clears his throat and taps his pencil on the tiny desk. 

The seats on this campus were all made of cheap plastic that had bus cushions on the butt of the seat, and little desks that you could flip to the right to escape. He liked to think of it like he was buckling himself into a rollercoaster each time. 

“Did you do the homework?” He blurts, trying to act cool as you stare at him. 

“We had homework?” You ask, eyes snapping to the daily checklist before turning back to him. “Are you sure?”

“No, that’s why I was asking you.” He blushes, pushing some hair back behind his ear. “Because I didn’t remember if we had an assignment or not.”

“Well normally you can see when we do because our professor writes it down.” You whisper, using your pencil to point at the board the assignments usually are. You were leaning in like you were telling him a secret and Eddie couldn’t help but bask in your scent for a moment. 

“Right….. I knew that.” He blushes, leaning in himself. “But if we are being totally honest here I might need some help with-”

“Alright settle down students! Let’s begin!” The professor calls and Eddie tries not to kick himself as he draws back to pay attention. So so close. 

- 

College life sucked. 

You had talked yourself into going to college after the horrific events you survived, seeing it as a chance to make yourself a new person. Leave the bloody history behind and live your life. 

It wasn’t everyday people got a second chance at life after all. 

It had taken you months to convince your parents to let you go, and it had been a rough time to say goodbye to your close knit group of friends or as your hometown liked to call them ‘The survivors’. Tear stained goodbyes and tons of promises to stay in touch before you left and at the time you had thought it was for the best, but now that you were here you realized what a mistake you had made. 

You had always thought that being away from the place where it happened might help you heal, but it only seemed to make it worse. 

The winter cold made your wounds ache, which made it hard to move. You couldn’t seem to make a friend to save your life and whenever you get close you can never get over the fact that they might stab you just as he had. The nightmares grew worse since you didn’t know this place well and you didn’t really have a security set up which meant your roommate hated you and often whispered about you with other girls living in your dorm hall. 

But the worst part was you saw them everywhere. 

You saw Maya sitting with the cheerleaders at lunch, giggling and being the life of the party, no longer dead. You saw Dylan drumming on a desk rather than paying attention, and when he turned back to smile at you he didn’t have his throat slit. 

You saw all your friends, or what could have been your friends, making themselves known in the world and each time you just felt like a huge imposter. You were wasting your life, it should have been you. 

But the worst was when you saw them. Standing outside your window in the masks, watching from the doorway of your classes or trailing behind you at night. 

You saw them everywhere, you saw flashes of that final fight every time you close your eyes. An ironic feat considering the news articles always read how lucky you were to ‘escape with your life’. 

But there was no escaping them. You were trapped in an endless cycle of fear. You could trust no one and hurt no one. 

That’s what made the chocolate eyed boy next to you so confusing. He had been seated next to you since the beginning of the year and you often caught him staring as if he was trying to think of things to say, and whereas you tensed around most people you never did with him. 

Maybe that’s because you could feel the nervousness coming off him every time. 

You were actually shocked that he spoke to you this morning, and you were even more shocked to find that his voice was a raw sort of calm that drew you in, which made you ashamed to admit you were a little upset that your professor interrupted because you were desperate to hear him talk forever. 

But that spell broke as you watched the board up front, taking the next 40 minutes to regain your composure and think of all the things that could go wrong. He could know who you are and be an obsessed freak, wouldn’t be the first time. He could be a copycat, he could stab you. He could be worse and actually succeed this time. 

What are the chances? You tried to remind yourself, taking a deep breath in only to stop when you see Stu standing in the doorway with his shirt covered in blood, smiling from ear to ear. You cough loudly, choking on your own hair as tears spring from your eyes, drawing attention from everyone in the class as the boy next to you reaches to hand you his water bottle. 

You take it, chugging quickly as the soft bell goes off, setting the bottle back down with a quick thanks and bolting from your seat. You hear him yell out a ‘wait’ before he rushes to stand, hitting the desk harshly since he hadn’t put it up and cursing at the pain. 

You use this as a chance to escape, dashing out the doors and barely turning back to see if Stu would follow. 

He’s not real. 

But he could be, and he could come back and he could-

“Wait wait wait, Jesus you are fast.” The stranger calls, panting as he catches up, a ringed hand flying to his right side as if he were in pain while staring at you. “You okay? Had a bit of a coughing attack in there.”

“Yeah, I just choked on air.” You half lied, not making eye contact. “Thanks for the bottle by the way…”

“Eddie. Well Edward but everyone calls me Eddie. Munson. Eddie Munson.” He blushes, holding out the hand that wasn’t holding his side. 

“I’m-”

“Y/n. I know.” He smiles and you draw your hand back quickly, panic clawing at you as the fall wind hits your spine. Of course he knows, everyone knows. They are laughing at you. 

“You know?”

“Yeah. You introduced yourself on the first day of class? You told everyone your favorite book was Frankenstein?” He chuckles, pink singing at his ears and cheeks as you nod. Jesus you paranoid freak, he’s just trying to be nice. 

“Right. Yeah.” You smile, fixing your bag and moving to walk away before he walks with you slowly. 

“I was actually going to ask for your help.”

“With?”

“Homework. Or well, just classwork in general. You see I am more of a fantasy kinda guy. Elves and goblins and dwarves but this whole classic literature is kicking my ass. And you seem to devour it like no other so I was hoping maybe you could help out.”

“Like do your homework?”

“No!” He laughs, moving to scratch the back of his neck. You notice then that his hand is still on his side, and when he catches you looking he snaps it back down and fixes the leather jacket to cover himself even with the shirt. “Maybe just tutoring sessions? I’ll get dinner or something.” 

“Oh…” You think back to all the things you could say to get out of it, maybe that you just didn’t want to but then you see Maya walking by with a laugh and remember why you were here in the first place. 

A second chance at life, right?

“I… okay.” You agree, something in your stomach easing at his smile. 

- 

You both agree to meet up Sunday night at a pizza place right off campus, which gives Saturday free of any and all obligation. With no classes and waiting to do homework tomorrow you find yourself with a free day, so you use it to call home. 

Not your parents since you just know they will pick up on the slightest hint of sadness in your tone and demand you come home. Instead you call Randy, one of the other survivors from that night, and eagerly listen to all his news in bed. 

He catches you up on everything back home, from the gym being redecorated to the radio station he works at, but it was only a matter of time before you both had to talk about it.

“They knocked the house down, there were too many break-ins lately.” He explains and you hear a slight shuffle on the other side, knowing him that meant he was pacing. “Nothing gets people hornier than death.”

“Figures.” You try to laugh, your throat tight as tears spring to your eyes. 

“Actually Y/n, I am glad I got ahold of you. I wanted you to hear it from one of us rather than the world…” He starts and you take a deep breath as you try to control your panic. 

“What’s up?”

“Kelvin…. He uhm, he sold the story.” Your heart lurches in your chest at the words, the tears falling freely now.

“He what?”

“A movie company reached out, bought the rights to the story-”

“But we all agreed we wouldn’t!” You snap.

“He said they offered him a lot-”

“I won’t sign off, they can’t use-”

“They won’t use your name. Trust me I’ve already tried on my end.” Randy sighs. “It’s being released soon, called ‘Slashed’ and-”

The second he says the name you recognize it. You had seen a poster for it on a walk through campus but hadn’t actually stopped to look at it. Oh my god. 

“Randy, I have to go.” You rush out, a sob slipping past your lips as you hang up the phone right as your roommate comes back, glaring and rolling her eyes at the scene before her. You don’t hear what she mumbles under her breath, too lost in your own world.

- 

“Yes Dustin, I heard you.” Eddie sighs, searching his mess of a dorm room for his leather jacket as Dustin lectures him over the phone. 

“My flight lands in two weeks at 3, do you hear me Munson? You better have the couch clean enough for me to sleep on-”

“Dustin, dude, you need to have more trust. The room is all set up for your arrival.” Lie. “And I have so many fun things planned for you when you get out here.” Double lie. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah.” No. “And we’ll go see that movie you have been prattling on about-”

“Slashed is going to be so epic. Think Halloween but better Eddie-”

“Nothing is better than Halloweeen.” Eddie snaps, eyes finally landing on the leather jacket where he actually hung it up and snagging it, throwing it on and giving himself one last look in the mirror before he rushes a goodbye to his friend.”I’m running late and have togobye!” 

Before he knows it he is on his way to meet you, books in hand as he walks across the street and towards the pizza place that sits right off campus. When he gets there he finds you already seated in a booth, your own books already open in front of you and he tries his best to remain cool when he walks up. 

“Hey, how was your day off yesterday?” He asks, sliding into the seat across from you with an easy smile. 

“Busy.” You smile, and he tries not to notice the way it doesn’t meet your eyes. “You?”

“Promised myself I would clean my room…..didn’t.” He jokes, and that finally cracks an actual smile out of you which makes his heart skip a beat. “Now I am ready to read shakespine and shove my face with pizza.” 

“Speare.”

“Huh? Is that a type of pizza?”

“No. You said shakespine, it’s shakespeare.” You laugh and his eyes widen. 

“I think I know why I failed the last assignment then.” How is he supposed to fight off that feeling of pride when you let out a loud laugh?

- 

You had only expected to spend an hour with Eddie, but ended up spending four and closing the place down, to which he kindly offered to walk you back to your dorm.  You said yes, partly because it was way too dark outside and partly because you wanted to spend just a little longer with him. More than you wanted to admit. 

So you walked side by side, listening to him tell you about the funniest thing that had ever happened to his band ‘Corroded Coffin’ in detail before the conversation came to an easy lull. “Do you miss them?”

He looks over at you with a curious expression, waiting for you to explain. “Since you are here now, do you miss all your friends and family?”

“Well family wise it’s just my uncle Wayne and I, and I miss him greatly. I went from spending every day seeing him and never realized just how much I relied on him. He raised me and now I’m living in a world where I can’t dash to him with every bloody nose or black eye. And I just miss him a lot. My friends? I find that I miss some more than others. I miss my band, I grew up with them and they have known me since middle school, playing guitar doesn’t feel the same without them. But the Vecna crew? Jesus, I miss them all the time. Just thinking about them makes me feel like I’m lonely and ready to go back home.”

You knew that feeling all too well. 

You spot the entrance to your building, taking the lead in walking up the steps until you get to the door, turning to smile at him softly. He is looking at you with the softest look you had ever seen, and you begin to get butterflies in your stomach. 

“How about you?”

“My family and friends are….. Complicated.” You blush, the sound of Maya’s scream tearing through your mind. 

“How so?”

“I wanted to escape them, but they are the only ones that know me.” You whisper and he nods in understanding, something flashing in the brown of his eyes. Like a scarred memory. He knows he knows he knows. 

“I…. well I can’t say I know you as well as them, but I can say even knowing a quarter of you is a gift. And I would love to get to know more.” He says lowly, leaning in slightly and you find yourself leaning up yourself before the groan of the metal door behind you sounds out. 

“Look who's back.” Someone snickers and you take a quick step back from Eddie who shoots you a curious look, only for you to wish him goodnight and rush inside the building as the two girls leave. 

Your cheeks are pumping from your heartbeat, all the blood rushing to your face as you make a quick dash to your room. 

This cannot happen. You can’t be so stupid again. 

- 

The next morning Eddie doesn't grumble to himself, and he doesn’t complain about having to wake up so early. Today he walks with a pep in his step as he makes his way to class, eager to see you. 

As per usual he arrives first, sending a rock signal to Paul as he takes his seat, flipping the desk down and pulling out his writing tablet as his side begins stinging in pain. Taking a hand and rubbing at his side slowly to help ease the soreness of the scars when he feels you come near, eyes already planted on him rubbing his side in pain. 

“Morning.” He greets, bringing his hand back down and giving you a smile. 

“Good morning.” You smile back, taking a seat, your eyes casting to the door for a moment before your face blanches out quickly and you turn to him. “I had a lot of fun last night.”

“Me too, we should do it again sometime. Not to mention it will really help my grades.” He teases, smiling at you like a conspirator. 

“We could always study for the test tonight?” You offer and Eddie feels like his body is on fire. 

“I would love that.”

- 

Dinners and study dates become a nightly thing with Eddie, and you find that you love them. You also find that each night he walks you home you are absolutely desperate for him to kiss you, and you keep getting closer and closer. 

Like tonight, your shoulders had been bumping each other the entire time, laughing gently as you recalled the jokes you made at dinner, your pinky grazing his own as he stared at you before you made it to your building. 

“Once again this is goodnight.” You blush, reaching a hand out to fix his leather jacket. “Same thing tomorrow?”

“Sadly not, I have plans with my friend Dustin.” 

“Right, you guys were going to go watch a movie together on his first night back.” You smile, before your mind is brought back to the posters of the screaming face all over town. “Do you know what movie you’re seeing?”

“Sealand or something?” Eddie shrugs, eyes hooded a bit as he steps closer. “You okay?”

“Me? Of course.” You smile, pressing your nose against his as you lean up to trace your lips against his own. He hesitates for a moment before leaning and taking your lips on his own, his hands flying to your hips softly as he kisses you deeply. Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you make the mistake of opening your eyes, only to find Billy standing behind Eddie’s shoulder with a smile. 

Drawing back with a sharp gasp that has Eddie staring wide eyed. “You okay?”

“Yes!” You rush out, kissing his cheek before moving to rush inside. 

“What?” Billy laughs from behind you, following you into the building. “You didn’t forget about me did you? You didn’t wanna tell your boyfriend about me?”

“Go away.” You whisper. 

“Didn’t want to admit how you killed me?”He laughs bitterly as you slam your bedroom door. Hesnotrealhesnotreal. He. Is. Not. Real.

- 

Dustin is a big ball of excitement as Eddie leads him through the movie theater, watching people come out with shocked and excited faces. 

“This movie has to be good.” Dustin rushes out. “Did you know it’s inspired by a true story?” 

“What are we watching again?”

“Slashed.” Dustin smiles. “And it’s going to be so awesome.”

(Part 2 soon)

[prrism]

Hi!! Could you do Karl for the Babysitters Guide series? Have a good day/night!

I would love to! Karl is such a sweet, wholesome guy so of course I had to write this

Sweet Cuddlebug

Summary: You’ve been struggling on one of your projects for a while now, hoping some fresh air will help you feel better instead you find a very clingy Karl alone on the side of the road…

Characters: Karl Jacobs x Reader

Relationship: platonic

Pronouns: unspecified/kept neutral

You needed a break and some fresh air, your current project was proving to be tough and not wanting to completely lose all your sanity you figured a nice walk would help. It seems you’ve forgotten just where you live and that peace and quiet can be quite the rarity, the growing sounds of crying evident of that. You were unsure if this was some sorta trap but pushed the thought aside with how distressed the mysterious source sounded. When you finally locate said source of the sound you’re simultaneously surprised and unsurprised at a child version of Karl sitting at the side of the road.

“Karl? Now how did you get all the way over here?” You question aloud, gaining his attention. Immediately the crying turns into softer whimpers and he reaches up for you. Without hesitation you pick him up and give him a boop on the nose earning you a small giggle, you smile and do it again making him brighten up a little more, you do it one more time and Karl goes from a sad whimper to elated laughing. “Alright, let’s get you somewhere safer.” You say, turning around to head back home.

You enter your home and set Karl down on the couch, you weren’t sure how long he’d been out there but you assumed a snack might cheer him up more. Grabbing some apples and carrots you’re about to cut them into smaller pieces when you feel weight lean against your leg, glancing down at Karl now clinging to you and staring at you with big doe eyes.

“Can I help you?” You ask, semi-sarcastically.

“Up, up, up.” Karl reaches up to you making little grabby hands. You can’t hold back a smile at how adorable he looked.

“You want up? Don’t you want a snack first?” To your surprise he shakes his head and continues reaching for you.

“Up, up, up.” He starts bouncing in place. Who were you to deny such a request so naturally you place what you’re holding down and lift him up, instantly he snuggles against you.

“Aww, you just wanted some cuddles, huh? Are you a little cuddlebug?” You give little Eskimo kisses making him giggle happily. Your day was filled with lots and lots of cuddles, you just couldn’t say no to Karl’s puppy eyes, not that you complaining either.

When you were finally able to get him to draw you take the opportunity to stretch out a bit, returning shortly after to see several strange drawings by him. One looked like a clock with swirling patterns around it, easy enough to figure out, what really stuck out to you was the pictures of a strange clocked figures and some sort of angel(?) with XD on its face, or mask you weren’t too sure.

“Whatcha drawing there Karl?” You ask, though you already knew you weren’t going to get an answer. Confirming this when he says nothing and reaches for you again, easily taking the hint you lift him into your arms again. As he happily cuddles against you, you’re still eyeing the pictures he drew wondering why they made you feel uneasy, especially the one of the angel, if that was even what it was. You don’t get to dwell on the feeling much longer when a familiar whirling sound hits your ears and you quickly set Karl onto the ground, in a quick puff he’s back to normal but still looking at you with puppy eyes.

“Hey, why’d you stop?” He pouts.

“Sorry, didn’t exactly feel like dropping you now that you’re yourself again.” You chuckle. “Why? Did you still need more cuddles?” You question sarcastically.

“Yes.” He answers sincerely.

“Umm… I’m sure if you head home Sapnap will be more then happy to cuddle with you.” You suggest.

“Well yeah, but I need cuddles to help hold me over before the long journey home. Please?” He stares at you expectantly, you sigh.

“Oh alright. Even now I still can’t say no.” You cave, muttering that last part. Karl smiles brightly and happily wraps you in a hug, you return the gesture with a smile of your own.

Who’da thought that all you needed to relax from that big, tough project wasn’t simply a walk but some well deserved cuddles from a friend.

That was a fun one 😁 I hope you guys liked it too. Feel free to let me know whose childish adventures you’d like to see next

[paradoxcase]

Chapter 18 of Nona the Ninth

After 18 chapters, something genuinely exciting is finally happening. You know, it's funny, I got pulled in by Gideon the Ninth because starting with Act 2 there were interesting and exciting things and weird mysteries happening like every chapter. Harrow the Ninth wasn't exactly action-packed, but there were like, interesting reveals and general world information coming out in most chapters, and it was also building towards something because there was the upcoming fight with Number Seven looming in the background at all times. This isn't a bad book or anything like that, but so far it's been: Nona goes to school and there are kid antics, everything sucks, it's hot, Nona refuses to eat food, it's dangerous to go anywhere because of the high concentration of people with guns, necromancy witch hunts, dead body burning, here's John monologuing about climate change and streaming necromancy on twitch. We get a little bit of Corona and brief glimpse of Judith, maybe we'll get to see Gideon/Gideon's body and Ianthe at some point, but so far it's just been the broadcast, and the most interesting stuff was all stuff that Nona didn't understand. I was ready for something to happen

I was promised I would find out what animal Nona drew, but I still don't know what animal Nona drew. Her saying that it started out living in a river and then got "cold" so it had to get large must mean it's a reptile of some kind, but I can't think of any reptile that has visible ears and a mouth that you might not draw at all. What does she mean by "large" here? Did she draw a dinosaur? The Angel mentions archaeology talks, but archaeology is the wrong field for studying dinosaurs, or any animals at all, really, it's the study of physical evidence of humans. (I mean, unless the "animal" that Nona drew was a human and it's now being revealed that everyone is actually a strange-looking alien...) It's also really hard to study Earth via archaeology when you are not actually on Earth, if you can't actually go dig up and date real artifacts it's just regular anthropology at that point. Or are BOE secretly sending teams of archaeologists to Earth now? That doesn't seem like it would be a high priority for them, but who knows, they did immortalize Eminem lyrics in their commanders' names, and we know they've been to Earth on unauthorized missions before, namely to abduct all of the non-Lyctor survivors of the first book

Presumably "cradle creature" means that it lived on Earth before John's apocalypse

Ok, so, I thought "Aim" must be like a nickname for Amy or some spelling thereof, but I see now that it's actually the first word of a BOE name. So, this bit requires that there is a word which means "Angel" in some language which sounds like "Aim" in (presumably) English, which also means something to the kids. But I guess we're meant to assume that "Angel" here is also in modern English, which again, doesn't make sense, since modern English should be long gone at this point. But maybe it's a translation convention thing

I'm curious what the implant is, why Palamedes is in a big hurry to find out what it is, and why the Angel doesn't want Nona to hear about it? Of course, she doesn't know who Nona is yet at this point. I'm guessing it's some kind of anti-necromancy device, given that "my dead body is designed to deny you answers"

It's true, he can't really swear on his own life, since that ended two books ago now

So I gather once the Angel accepted that Palamedes was not a Lyctor, she somehow gave whatever order to Merv Wing to kill Camilla and Nona, since she knows that regular necromancers can be killed like normal people? BOE's MO for necromancers is a sniper headshot per the last book. But I don't know how Palamedes survived this, I feel like we're about to find out that he and Camilla are a Lyctor now, or possibly some new and "improved" version of a Lyctor

Was this something that happened on screen that I should remember?

Is that what Nona's building is? I'm not sure exactly what that means, or if that tells me anything more about the building that I didn't already know. It didn't seem like it was specifically a BOE building, since there were cops and militia living there, too

Well, there's something important about that implant

This seems like a counter-productive rule to have if they want Pash to be her bodyguard, though. At some later point there is a mention of "electrics" and implication that Merv Wing is not going to fire any guns as long as Aim/the Angel is in the room, so possibly some other types of weapons are involved here. Nona misses the entire battle, but there were gunfire sounds, so I guess someone disregarded whatever rules there are about not shooting guns around the Angel

I guess Pash subscribes to the theory that Hot Sauce mentioned that necromancers have to be killed in a very particular way to stay dead?

For the first part of this I was like, that sounds a lot like Pash, but hasn't Nona heard her voice before? But then I remembered that Nona has only heard her speak through the voice modulator

It's also hilarious how Nona thinks Pash is just so cool throughout this chapter

Are we then to understand that Pash was driving the car the previous day when the Angel rescued Nona and Hot Sauce?

They again. Still unknown if this is a gender thing or a plural thing, because who knows what is going on with the implant

This is honestly straining my suspension of disbelief here, that someone actually read Nona's lips from the top of a building a block away. If they thought it was a radio call, there are easy ways of intercepting those if you can guess what frequencies might be being used, you don't have to guess what someone is saying by reading their lips

Pash gets all the best lines

Oh, this is a fun one!

There's a weird thing here where we first get this:

But then in the next paragraph it says:

So it's not actually clear exactly how munted Nona thinks the classroom is?

Yeah, this was obviously going to happen at some point from the point where Hot Sauce was introduced in the first place. Honestly, I feel so bad for Hot Sauce, she's 14 and she's already been traumatized several times over before this book even began, I think, and then she saw Nona die in front of her and actually got successfully gaslighted into thinking she didn't for about five minutes and from her perspective Nona is definitely some kind of evil eldritch creature. But how many time does Nona have to get shot today? This would also be a lot more of a cliffhanger if Nona wasn't immortal

[cjcroen1393]

Humans | Lowblood Trolls | Midblood Trolls | Highblood Trolls | Cherubs | Carapacians

FINALLY, THEY'RE DONE!

Here's the Pokestuck version of the Cherubs! For the Muse of Space and Lord of Time, I felt like it was most appropriate to give them a very special partner. Calliope's is an Ultra Beast (an alien creature obtained from Ultra Space) and Caliborn's is a Paradox Pokemon (a Pokémon pulled from an alternate point in time).

Calliope: Calliope's ace is Pheromosa, an elegant, almost angelic-looking Pokemon that is based on something that people would normally find repulsive (specifically, a cockroach). I imagine Calliope, a sweet, kindhearted girl who resembles a humanoid snake monster with a skull head, would feel a kinship with this mysterious creature. Also I somehow didn’t think of it when I drew this, but Pheromosa being a cockroach also fits with the fact that the Cherubs live on a post-apocalyptic version of Earth.

Caliborn: Caliborn has Roaring Moon as his ace instead. Unlike the elegant Bug/Fighting-type Pheromosa, Roaring Moon is a ferocious and aggressive Dark/Dragon-type, fitting Caliborn and his toxic masculinity like a glove.

[cosmic-frost-main]

Prison Inmate: Rebellious Angel [18+]

Summary:

Betty goes for her usual prison patrol and it doesn't end good

AO3 Version: [HERE]

Prison inmate: Rebellious Alice Angel

A label Wilson had given to the second Alice in the ink realm, he had already caught the first one but was shocked to find that there was another yet also different Alice. This one having no memories of what would be her past life unlike many others here, she only knows that she's called Alice.

Other than that, Wilson was just glad to have finally caught the one continuously trying to ruin his work and in his own words, rightfully lock her up.

He knew of her tricks and skills so he had both her wrist and ankles chained, her singing would somehow attract unwanted guest so he made sure to muzzle her.

The rules were simple like for the others; Check up on the prisoners and make sure they haven't escaped and or have died.

Very simple rules that Betty has no issue with considering the people in the cells don't seem all that hostile towards her, except maybe that one disfigured angel but that's just normal for her.

Finishing up her task by visiting the last prisoner, the second Alice, the maiden opened up the shutters to communicate with her. Betty didn't mind this one at all and rather found her quite nice to chat with, granted the muzzle makes it difficult for the angel but the hand gestures give clear enough responses.

"Just doing the usual check up, Miss." Betty spoke through the microphone getting the woman's attention, she appeared more tired than she normally would be and could only do a gentle nod which worried Betty a bit. 

"Did you have trouble sleeping again, dear? If so I can fix you up something that'll help." The maiden said before noticing her trying to scratch under the muzzle, "Oh dear, the mask is giving you a hard time again." 

Betty stood there contemplating whether she should do what she was instructed to do and get the Keepers for help or just go in there herself despite Wilson's warnings, she knew that she should listen to Wilson but she also can't see the problem of just doing it herself considering how non hostile the inmate was towards her. 

Giving the angel one more glance and seeing that she had managed to get a cut under her chin, she bit the bullet and went into the cell by herself. 

Keys in hand she walked over to the chained angel and hesitantly hovered the key near the padlock that held her muzzle in place, said angel looked up at her with a look she couldn't pin point the emotion of as she slowly turned the key until a click echoed. 

After having removed the device the angel moved her jaw allowing it to crack out any discomfort before finally being able to scratch her nose. "Thank you" Her warm voice startled the masked woman at first but quickly got use to it, no wonder her voice drew others close. 

"Oh it's no biggie, if it was up to me the muzzle would stay off." Betty sighed softly while the other slightly smirked. "But I best put it back on you before Wilson pitches a fit." She went to grab the muzzle but was stopped by the woman's hands holding her wrist. 

"Before you do that!" She exclaimed, a soft smile on her face caused Betty's stomach to flutter. "I want to give you a proper thanks."

Before she could respond, Betty found herself pulled on top of the woman's lap and gasped when she trailed her tongue to the maiden's chest to her neck in slow harsh kisses. Goosebumps rising as the angel moved her hands to the maiden's back near her rear and smirked upon hearing an audible yet muffled moan.

Betty knew she should be putting up a fight but the way her heart beat along with the heat her body formed a high she needed to satisfy. Her face flushed hot after the other pulled her dress up and buried her face into her shoulder as she pressed her fingers into her, Betty failed to stifle a moan when the woman found her inner sweet spot and rubbed, she also failed to hold her hips in place as she moved them side to side and giving more room for the angel to go deeper.

"Oh goodness~." A breathy moan left the maid's vocals before placing a hand on the side of her face, "Mo-More rougher, right the-THERE~!" Betty's back arched suddenly as the angel gave her clit a gentle tug. 

"Good girl, now I'm going to lower you to the floor." She whispered to the maiden who couldn't help but tremble weakly before allowing the angel to lay her down on the ground, the chains echoing when hitting the ground. 

No time was wasted as the woman tugged Betty's dress over her stomach and lowered her head to the maid's sex. The sensation of the angel's tongue against her slick folds was almost enough to send her to the edge, her back arching gradually but held in place. 

"Mpfh~!" Betty moaned into her palm while using the other to hold onto the woman's hair, "Keep going~" 

She jerked her head back upon fingers entering her in thrusting motions rubbing her sweet spot, her hips moving on their own as she desperately grinded her clit into the angel's damp palm who couldn't help but chuckle. 

"Are you close?" The angel hummed as her lips were suddenly hovering over her neck before harshly kissing it, Betty could only reply with a pathetic moan as both her hands shakily gripped onto the hem of her dress, giving and wanting her to explore more despite how close she felt she was to climax. 

!Cla-Click!

"Huh?" Betty breathlessly jolted in confusion before looking down at her hands, both her wrist now chained together with the same restraints used to restrain the angel. 

As a matter of fact... Looking over at the now unshackled woman who softly smirked at her, Betty noticed the ring of keys dangling around her index finger in a playful manner. 

"Huh??" Betty watched in shock as she stood up off of her and stepped passed her towards the door.

"While that was fun, I better get going so my partner doesn't get even more worried." The angel said with a chipper voice while leaning back and giving the masked maid a friendly wave. "Thanks for letting me go~!"

All the woman could do was watch as the woman walked out of the room and closed the door behind her, leaving her to be the new prisoner of the cell.

...

Betty covered her face in utter embarrassment at what she had unknowingly allowed to happen.

"Ohhh no, Wilson's going to be so mad..."

---

Laid back against the plush bed, Allison looked up visibly flustered.

"You know, I'm very glad Audrey officially introduced us." Betty hummed happily as she finished tying Allison's wrist to the bed frame with a soft fabric. "But I'm more glad that I get to have more alone time with you."

She sat back onto her lap and caressed her hands against Allison's neck down to the strap on she attached to her hips. "Worry not, Allison." Betty suddenly leaned her head up close to the angel startling her slightly, "I promise not to use any muzzles on you, if you behave well that is~."

Allison finally spoke up with a sheepish smile as the maid positioned herself above the dildo, "Don't you think the restraints are a bit too much?" She held back a groan upon Betty moaning while lowering herself.

"Oh I don't know~" Betty breathed out a chuckle as she reached the base, "Wasn't tricking me into letting you free through such adultery tactics a bit too much?" Her fingers ran up under her shirt.

"That's..." Allison averted her shameful gaze, "That's fair."

"Exactly" The masked woman giggled as she resumed her hip movements that gradually increased in a steady speed. The faint squelch between her legs as the dildo messaged her flesh getting more and more audible to Allison's ears, it was driving her crazy enough she tugged harshly at the restraints but failing to tear them, Betty being greatly amused by it.

Slowly lifting her dress above her stomach giving the struggling angel a little view to enjoy who could only respond with a desperate grunt, her mouth left hung open as she panted.

Dropping the hem of her dress after a sudden jolt, Betty rested her hands against Allison's shoulders in a frantic grip while her waist sluggishly increased in speed.

"Hey!" Allison stammered out in worry, "Slow down, you might hurt yourself if you move like that!"

"Oh how-" Betty moan deeply, "How thoughtful of you to worry~" She slid her hands above Allison's head as she continued moaning and groaning.

"Ah~!" The maiden halted her movements as her orgasm overflowed her body in a pulsating wave, her arms instinctively wrapping around Allison's head muffling her shocked gasp with her breast.

After riding out her climax and letting her body settle down, Betty groaned quietly as she gradually let go of the other and allowing her to breathe.

"Oh my, finally~." Betty slowly lifted herself up off the dildo with a satisfied whimper and giggled.

"Ar-Are you happy now?" Allison forced a smirk trying to hide how horny she still was. "Happy enough to untie me?"

A laugh escaped the masked woman, "Like I'll let you go that easily." She got off the disgruntled woman and made her way to her drawer. "I still have many wonderful things to do with you~."

"Wonderful things?" Allison nervously questioned as she tugged the restraints, "What are these things you speak of?"

Excitedly the maiden turned around to reveal another yet different strap on, the dildo instead of being the regular penile shape was a wiggling orange tentacle dripping out a liquid of the same colour. The sight of it caused Allison to crossed her legs.

"This one was heavily inspired by the Keepers, though more smaller than their actual size." Betty explained to Allison's shock, "Took sometime to get it right, but I know it work perfectly~!"

The angel watched wide eyed as Betty slowly undressed herself in front of her before getting back on the bed, removing the strap off of her and putting the new one on herself, Allison quickly realizing she wasn't going to be the wearer and blushed more.

Spreading her legs and positioning herself more comfortably, Betty tilted her head in a cheerful manner as the tip pressed up against Allison's entrance as she stared back nervously.

"Don't worry, dear~." Betty chuckled, "I'll be nice and gentle for you~"

The End

[hoardlikegoldenirises]

He's a biter, you know.

details and un-shaded version (and also lineart version) under the cut:

I meant to draw this for peterfel week and made the sketch in like, literally February but didn't get around to finally finishing it until now… lol… well it's done now!!!

i dunno if i love how the dark shaded version turned out...

These are my base colors, but I guess I just felt like spending a couple hours with color overlays and fucking around to make the final moody blue version lol

as an aside the bokeh is a brush by Bunabi/Eriart which you can find as a freebie on her patreon - i saw it and was like omg wait i could use that

...the buildings are also brushes (well the windows are)

anyway here's the lineart

I also used a chain brush of course cause I ain't fuckin drawin all of that lmao —I used a brush from this set, they're pretty nice

😻 there she is oh i also used a diamond stamp 😂 the lesson to learn about me is if i can use a brush for something that would otherwise be tedious and it looks decent i will because i am lazy. unless i only have like a Single instance then I'll usually just draw it but when I have more than one it's either brushes or copy pasting lol

Felicia's outfit is a mix of sources, inspired by both her original costume, with the furry chest (in this case unzippable) as well as obviously more modern sexy latex outfits and so on... but i did NOT give her cleavage to her bellybutton cause I think that's dumb. though. to be fair in this case it would be more justifiable 😂

i love drawing her long long hair (angel medina's fault tbh) (sensational spider-man my beloved...)

rawr 😼

he's trying very hard not to laugh 😂 but he's into it, he's having fun

the muzzle ended up being like multiple designs from photo refs mashed into one so idk... how realistic it is other than the nose-forehead piece which was the same on both my refs. admittedly it looks a little loose but 🤷 still looks nice 😏

claws 😏

I also drew Peter in the classic suit, which I don't normally do, but I was doing more of the comic book look here instead of my own AUs and so on lol

he broke the cuffs so he could touch her butt 🙄 god peter don't you know how much real leather BDSM gear costs (don't tell him)

this new pen tablet is a lot of fun, it's way more comfortable to draw on and the increased pressure sensitivity makes it a lot easier to draw my favorite thing to draw: peter's arm hair 😂😂

the only weird thing is if I press down medium or harder while I'm drawing it... creaks? which is very funny, my old pen did not do that. it really is weirdly like using a felt tip pen or a very fine point marker. except it's plastic.

shoes. it may be classic style but I can never resist giving Peter sporty soles lol I know some people hate that but I just think it looks nice and I can handwave the sticking away as electrostatic forces or something. negative charge. electron transfer. blah blah blah. (in my AU i decided Peter has both electrostatic sticking that encompasses his whole body and ALSO adhesive secretions so if he gets his hands and feet bare i guess he has double the sticking power lol)

shaded versions just cause

tits

i really like drawing latex lol

also if you're wondering why i didn't give peter a boner to match his red face well i have an out and it's that long ago i decided he wears a dance belt under the costume so as not to inflict the outline of his dick and balls on the people of NYC on a daily basis, and dance belts are first of all designed as mentioned to smooth out and hide that outline but also you wear them with everything pointing north and the waistband is like 5 inches wide so i don't think he has to worry about his little buddy escaping LOL (though I'm sure it's possible it would be more visible... i didn't bother trying to google it lol)

really i just didn't feel like trying to draw a boner 😂

[quillquiver]

On SPN, Burying Your Gays, and Being Heard

I am shaking, I feel sick, I feel like I’m insane. And did I run a little wild with the theories? You bet. But you know what didn’t help? The botched clusterfuck that was this entire goddamn finale debacle. How was I supposed to believe anything they said in panels when M&G dialogue would leak saying the exact opposite? How was I supposed to grieve and move on when there was nothing from the cast and crew? Nobody said anything! And any info leaked just destabilized what we already knew or directly contradicted what we’d been told. In light of that, how was I supposed to trust anything anyone said? One rogue translator reciprocated the love confession and I was practically sold, because there were so many questions surrounding the English text that this was something good, something that logically fit, and something I wanted to hold onto. 

Because they hurt me. This is about so much more than one episode or a ship; for years queer fans have seen ourselves in these characters and been told that we were crazy. That we were reading too much into it. I’m not sure how people get upset and offended when a storyline that doesn’t exist... doesn’t exist! said Guy Bee (2013). And then, after all of that, they turned around and said magnanimously, you have your version, I have mine... and that’s okay. But it’s not okay. It’s not okay, because that doesn’t erase what came before - that doesn’t erase the baiting and the gaslighting, and that invalidates everything we felt in the time leading up to that episode. It gave them an open window for all the subtext that came after. It allowed them to brush us off.

And then we got Cas’s love confession. I watched that scene about 500 times. Added to the rest of the season - to the fandom avatar being presented as successful and intelligent, to arc being the death of the author - I felt seen. Really seen, by a show that made it its mission to erase me. I had been okay with Cas dying at first because I had been sure the romance arc would carry through. I had been convinced that after everything, there was no way they would give that to us and then take it away.

But they did, because this is Supernatural. To anyone saying this is not bury your gays, I implore you to read up on the Hays Code. This link is to an amazing queer history podcast and the episode that covers it. In short, the Hays Code was a legal document that came about in 20th Century Hollywood during the puritanical war on the American entertainment industry,  and it stipulated what was not allowed on screen. Not all of it was queer - there’s a whole section about kissing - but what the Code is most remembered for is that queerness was not allowed on screen. But queer people are resilient, and so they started testing the waters... and it turned out that you could in fact code queerness into a narrative, as long as it was subtextual, or as long as the queer character died/was punished, or both. The point is that the character is not allowed to live their truth openly. They are buried, either in the ground or punished in the narrative. The former is normally what we refer to these days, because the latter just doesn’t really happen anymore.

Until Supernatural. 

Castiel is immediately punished for speaking his truth - and please don’t tell me he leveraged that punishment and so he had agency. Literally the only thing that could make him happy was confessing his feelings, and so the Empty deal was directly related to this idea of queerness-as-punishment. That being said, Bobo wrote a beautiful scene. Cas’s confession was a love letter to queerness and coming out... but everything that came after buried him. Castiel may have ended the series alive but he was effectively written out of the last two episodes, and that means that he actually never really got to live his truth. He was silenced by the narrative - that is punishment. 

Dean is a whole other can of worms. Does one rogue translator confirm canon bi!Dean? Or do we have to read our own version of the text? The fact that we even have to ask these questions firmly places us in the realm of queerbaiting. Were the writers trying to get bi!Dean approved but were unable to? I have no idea, but queerbaiting requires proof that the writers encouraged a reading they had no intent of following through on, and we certainly don’t lack in evidence of that. Not from this writers room, but from those of previous eras. Did these writers try? They might have, but the funny thing about queerbaiting discourse is that there has never been a show to bait this long, and I’m making the call that even if you tried at the end, you baited me with half the ship and all the years that came before. 

Of course, the narrative leaves open the possibility of bi!Dean so if you do read the show that way, that means Dean also falls into the bury your gays category; if you read the show this way - which many of us do - the mere suggestion that Dean Winchester was bisexual was enough to punish him. And he was punished. We’ve all written extensively on this, but he was given a random death, on a case his father never finished. All that growth, all that time spent having him accept himself, love himself, that was all taken away. He died the way he always thought he would: as a tool, in service of his father, protecting his brother. He had always believed he’d been a body to throw on the sword and in the end that’s all he was. And when he gets to Heaven? He’s also silenced. He barely speaks in the episode except to monologue during his death, and that is 100% Sam-centric. He is scared. 

It was horrific to watch. I sobbed so hard my roommate was seriously concerned. 

I had been fully prepared for Supernatural to end disappointingly. I had figured everything would end with a huge heaven reunion because white, straight, cis-male S&F writers love the idea of death as a reward, but instead of being disappointed I felt like I had witnessed a slaughter. Every single one of the queer themes intrinsic to the show: found family, resilience, speaking your truth... were gone. And I know we’ve talked about this too, but it bears repeating, because in doing this, in writing the queerness out of its narrative, Supernatural effectively looked every one of us queer folx in the eye and said: you are not important. You don’t matter. All of that stuff that came before is all good and well, but what really matters at the end of all things is blood family. It’s two brothers in a car. Life sucks but at least we get to die and go to paradise - real paradise, that your angel buddy died for and then made for you and who we never hear from again.

I felt insane. I felt cheated. I felt humiliated. I felt devastated. I still feel all those things, but listen to me. You have been heard. Not by Misha Collins, who is a great guy, but doesn’t get it. Not by Jensen Ackles, who is a similarly great guy, but also just doesn’t understand. And not by anyone else who worked on this show. 

You know who heard you? Me. The people who follow me. The people who follow you. We saw each other, and heard each other, and we gave each other a leg up. We made memes. We wrote fic. We drew fanart. We made gifs. All for ourselves and all for each other. We broke Tumblr multiple times. We donated over $60,000 USD to multiple different causes. We got multiple hashtags trending at multiple different points, and today kept it up because we demanded answers and then we got them. There were at least 5 articles written about the show today. We made that happen. We made people listen. 

Supernatural didn’t deserve me, and it didn’t deserve you. It didn’t deserve Dean. It didn’t deserve Cas. It didn’t deserve Misha and Jensen. But this show ended with a bleak, awful message and we turned around and showed them that love is loud. So what about all of this is real?

We are.

[solomonish]

things my heart used to know (solomon x reader)

You find yourself stuck in an unusual contraption with Solomon, where the only way out is to take a trip through his memories that he was not prepared to take.

Based on Once Upon a December

Ao3 link: here!

With a spectacular grunt, you rammed your shoulder against a suspicious spot in the wall, hoping that just maybe you could bring the whole wall down or convince someone to help you out or something. Chances of that were low: you and Solomon had been alone when the mysterious magical device activated, trapping you both inside. Trying to shove the more hopeless thoughts of never escaping away, you continued to push at the wall, as if one spot would give and open up to let the two of you out.

Solomon was behind you, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed. He looked the picture of calm, a small smile playing with the corners of his mouth as he listened to your struggle. When you looked at him with the intention of giving him a glare, you saw the dim light in the box had turned from white to gold. With a cocked eyebrow, you pushed away from the wall as you felt it morph from stone to something smoother. “What’s…”

“It’s deciding which form to take,” Solomon answered as if that told you anything. Met with silence, he chuckled and pushed himself off of the wall to make his way over to you. “We’re in a memory box.”

“A memory box?” Inadvertently, you stepped closer to him, only stopping when your arm brushed gently across his. The sensation of the walls changing beneath your hands put the horrible thought of your hands getting stuck in a partially-morphed wall, and you wanted to stick next to him in case that really did happen.

Clearly amused, Solomon looked down at you, the teasing smirk on his face making him look much more condescending than he normally did. “Yes. They require a strong magical energy to work, and typically only work once. They’re especially popular with those of us who...have a lot of memories to sift through, but they can be used by anyone. I’m surprised this one lasted so long without being used...” 

As he talked, he walked forward, noting how you stuck close to his side and looked around nervously. The darkness was slowly dissipating and the focused light began to expand into a broader golden glow. The box transformed into a long hallway, the end opening into a room you couldn’t quite see into. Curiously, the walls around you started to shine, taking on their own gilded form. Intricate shapes were carved into the gold, reaching tall like palm trees. In front of each carving stood a gold pedestal, each with some artifact on it that looked to you like they belonged in a museum. 

Finally pulling apart from his side, you ran your fingers over one of the trees. The walls seemed stable, thankfully. “You seem to know a lot about these memory boxes. Have you used one before? Oooh, or did you create them?”

He picked up a small statuette, his gaze darkening for a moment as he stared at it absently. “I...am familiar with how they work.”

He placed the statuette down with a solid clink, drawing your attention from the wall and stopping you from commenting about how utterly unhelpful his response was. Had you said something wrong? His footsteps were faster than before as he made his way down the hall, barely glancing at the walls as if he had seen them before. Well, actually, he probably had. As far as you were aware, you didn’t have an intricate temple in your memories, so this must be coming from him.

Scurrying after him, you followed him through the shadowed doorway and stepped into a room that was just as ornate but not at all connected to the hallway you were just in. While the hall looked like some temple from the first century, the ballroom-like space before you seemed much more recent, if not still at least a hundred years old. You were standing on a high landing, having emerged from an archway several feet taller than you. You weren’t an architect or archaeologist, but you could guess the style of the architecture was different. Maybe...more European? Of some sort? Cringing, you tried to push the image of your humanities professor scowling at you out of your head and slowed your own steps, choosing instead to look at the high ceilings around you.

“I’ve never seen a place like this before…” You murmured in awe. Though the room was dark and clearly abandoned, you still felt a still kind of magic around you, different from what you normally felt around Solomon. He was a few feet to your left, looking at a separate old artifact and standing before a table littered with them. If you squinted, you could see what looked like wings stretched across a long serving dish, the paint chipped and faded. You couldn’t tell if it was an angel or a bird - the pinched expression on Solomon’s face didn’t give you any clues, either. A chill settled in the room, but only you shuddered, suddenly realizing that you were an intruder in these unfamiliar rooms. The thought had you awkwardly kicking at the worn rugs beneath you, the threads dirty and torn yet somehow still looking expensive.

Without a word, Solomon dug around in the bag he was carrying with him, hastily looking for something. You watched him drop it unceremoniously on the ground, bringing up a cloud of dirt around it. In his hand was the notebook he used to teach you different runes, a faint glow coming from the page following the stroke of his pen. The sound of the page being ripped from the binding seemed to fill the room, followed by his steady footsteps as he made his way to the grand staircase. You watched him go, only turning your head so as not to draw his attention.

After he passed, you cautiously sauntered over to the table Solomon was standing at, stooping to pick up the bag he left behind. Slinging the long strap across your chest, you picked up a bear figurine gilded in chipping gold, turning it so that it caught the light. All of the figures before you seemed to be masterful pieces of craftsmanship, regal things to be envied yet somehow seeming personal.  You were almost afraid to touch them for fear of offending the unknown owner.

Your hand fell to your side, bumping a cool metal box on the way and nearly knocking it off the table. Thankfully, you caught it and brought it to your face. Opening up the small lid to reveal another bear, this one standing up as if dancing one half of the tango, you gently turned it around to find the crank. It was old and a bit rusty, but still you turned it gently once, twice, three times until you could feel the springs coiled so tightly they might break. For a moment, you held your breath, then - 

Nothing. No sound came out of the box.

"Hmph. That's a shame," You murmured, tapping the side gently with your finger. Unsurprisingly, that didn't work and you set the box down on the table again. Turning over your shoulder, you called out, "So, what is this pl- ack!"

Just as you turned, a small display of glitter resembling fireworks shot out from Solomon's hand, the shimmering ash eating away at the paper that hovered in midair. Your shout of surprise didn't stir him, his back rigid and still facing you.. The quiet fizzle that caught you off guard became a visible stream of magic curling around him and you before spreading to the far corners of the room. 

You watched as the shadows were pushed into the walls before entirely disappearing, the magic gilding the ballroom and mending the disrepair it had fallen into. Tapestries unfurled to hang on the wall as the vibrancy of the old portraits returned. Overhead, empty arches found themselves holding large, crystalline chandeliers that bathed the room in a welcoming glow. Behind you, the music box started playing, the tune sounding like a full orchestra even if you knew it should only be a dissonant metallic tin. The extravagance caught your breath, nearly distracting you from the way the paintings began to shift and colors bled together.

With another wave of his hand, Solomon drew figures from the painting, hundreds spilling out as if a day had been broken. A few emerged from the floor, entering the ballroom the same way one would step out of a lake and onto the shore. Some of the figures wire masks, hiding their identity with the facade of thespian comedy. Others came as they were, wearing the same face in a variety of expressions. Despite the period clothing and many different hairstyles, the face was eerily familiar.

You watched ghoulish duplicates of Solomon traipse around the floor or mingle, talking to invisible counterparts animatedly. The figures that were not identical were faceless, aside from the occasional partner that seemed to exist in greater detail than any version of Solomon. The figures never stepped a foot on the staircase that was now covered in a rich red carpet - somehow, they were completely unaware of your presence yet seemed to know and respect that you and your Solomon lived in reality. They were citizens of the mindscape, figments of the past, and the barrier between what is and what was should not have been breached.

So caught up in your shock were you that you failed to notice Solomon head down the stairs, as if in a trance, and breach that barrier.

Once you saw him slipping between the ghostly figures, expertly sidestepping them as if he had studied their waltz for years, you called out to him. But he did not answer, too focused on the people milling around him. Maybe your voice was drowned out by the faux chorus around you. With a huff, you gripped the strap across your chest and followed him, walking down the stairs so quickly you almost tripped.

The moment you reached the foot of the stairs, you felt as though you had stepped into a bubble. With a close eye on the figures around you, you picked your way through the crowd with significantly less grace than Solomon. You never lost sight of him in his dark clothes, the dancers only distorting his image as if you were looking through water or a warped mirror as they passed in front of your line of sight. One pair accidentally passed through you, sending a harsh arctic chill down your spine. You watched that Solomon, his hair slightly neater and sporting a ridiculous frilly neck accessory you might have made fun of under different circumstances, pay no mind to you and instead look down at his companion. His expression was mischievous, scheming, but the woman he was dancing with had a face of static, barring you from reading her reaction.

Clutching tighter to the bag strap, you hastened your pace and tried to maneuver through the spirits, occasionally brushing your elbow or hip through the people around you. Each time it sent a different shiver through you, some icy while others were warm and tingled your skin. Surrounded by phantom Solomons only made you more eager to find your place next to the real one again, but the static shock you got from passing through the hurdles made you all the more careful in your steps. Who knew finding your way through a crowd you could walk right through would be harder than finding your way through a collection of solid bodies?

Near the center of the room, you found yourself in an open area with Solomon, your Solomon, standing in the middle. It seemed the translucent versions of himself knew to steer clear of him. You watched, standing just on the edge of where the crowd seemed to circle around him, watching as he took in his surroundings. Then, slowly, Solomon turned to you as if realizing for the first time that you were there.

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing could come out. All your words tangled together, the confusion only growing when Solomon reached a hand out to you, palm up. The gaze he held you in was unfocused, his expression the closest to unkind you had ever seen. Even if there were no right decisions, rejecting his offer to dance seemed like the absolute wrong one. With the same timid air as a schoolgirl at her first dance, you placed your hand in his. For a moment, you felt vulnerable as you untucked your arms from your chest, only to feel at ease once Solomon pulled you in. His hand fell to your waist with a practiced ease. If he had been focused, maybe you would've felt butterflies swarming in your stomach, or maybe you would've laughed nervously. His far away gaze kept the joy down, and instead you pressed your lips in a tight line, watching him closely and allowing him to take the lead.

He fell into step with his doppelgangers, directing you through a path of the specters with the firm hand on your waist. Your time at Diavolo's party helped a little, but back then you hadn't been so worried about your partner. (Well, aside from the time Lucifer asked to dance with you only to threaten you - but then you were more worried about what your partner would do to you and not his emotional wellbeing.) It was all you could do to avoid stumbling over your own feet, barely missing his ties with your heavy steps. 

"Solomon…" You breathed out, noticing how his gaze stuck to the spirits for a moment too long before turning to you. Your questions died in your throat - Are you okay? What's happening? What memory is this? How do we get out of here? - but he could read your expression clear as day, even with his mind preoccupied. 

"These are all memories of me," He explained, leading you into a turn and  arely avoiding one of his copies. "I didn't have a specific memory in mind when we activated the box, so...perhaps it just started to play all of them in one."

"So you've been here before?" You asked, astonished.

"It's...familiar. I've been to lots of places. It's hard to tell."

A pair of dancers blew through you, sending a spark down both of your spines. You turned your head to see a version of Solomon look both ways, checking for onlookers that were nowhere to be found, before tenderly reaching towards the face of the man beside him. Before they could meet, Solomon turned you so his body was between you and the romantic scene, but you were able to catch a glimpse of the man's face. It was completely smooth, like an unchisled head to a statue. 

Solomon didn't make eye contact with you, a faint blush painting his cheeks. You squeezed his hand in the only reassurance you could give. "I don't mean to pry."

There was no answer, and you couldn't blame him. Even if you hadn't meant to peer into his memories, you were witnessing versions of himself he didn't tell you about, versions of himself he might not even remember. You didn't know if he was dancing with you to angle you away from the things he didn't want to see or just to keep you close, but the fact that you were even around to be swept up in the sea of Solomons was too personal for him to dwell on.

With an almost imperceptible tilt of his head, Solomon's attention was grabbed by someone on the other end of the room. His grip on your hand tightened and he tucked you slightly closer to himself, spinning you in order to turn your course. You couldn't keep up with his faster footwork, nearly tumbling to the ground and only saved by his firm grasp. Solomon wasn't paying attention to you, though; his focus was on whoever he was pursuing, his turns tight as he guided you into a small circle around the room. 

The fast turns were making you dizzy, unexpectedly jostling you every time his target moved from his sight. Feebly, you used the hand resting on his shoulder to push him gently away, asking him to stop. The more he spun, the harder you pushed, occasionally asking him to slow down. He wasn't hurting you, but you were hoping that if you could get his attention he might stop. The figures around you were whirling, spinning, disorienting you - was that how dizzy and overwhelmed he felt every day, or just now? 

Without warning, the figures around you stretched an arm out as their partners spun away from them, their fingers barely brushing past each other as they disappeared into thin air. As the remain figures turned to fade into their own memories, Solomon did the same to you. You tried to keep your hands connected, hoping maybe if you kept your fingertips on his he could you bring you back to him bring his thoughts with you. That didn't happen, and you felt your fingertips drag across his palm as you stumbled backwards.

Brushing your hair out of your face, you huffed and looked around. It was just you and Solomon in the room again, the Golden facade having faded back into the dim, abandoned ballroom from before. Solomon was staring at a blank space a few feet from the wall, his face scrunched as if watching the world rip something from him. Perhaps he was; perhaps he was watching one of the few faces he could remember beside his own, maybe one of the ones he loved, fade away from his grasp again.

This wasn't about you - clearly, none of the memories were for you to see - but you felt a creeping loneliness settling around you. Solomon was not only lost in his own world, but in hundreds of his own worlds, where details blurred and recognizable friendly faces were a luxury. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you noticed that the music box was now playing music, the kind you'd expect from such a dainty trinket. Now, the sound seemed hollow and eerie, far from how charming you thought it would be before.

Hesitantly, you took one step towards him as the song dwindled to a stop, but the click of your shoe echoed far too aggressively in the room. The walls were slowly returning to the non-descript box you were in before, but Solomon wasn't moving from his spot. The memories would always be swirling around in his head, you supposed. He had to take his time to bridge the gap between you - even if to you, it seemed insurmountable and ever-growing.

[thankskenpenders]

Enerjak Reborn intermission: Who the hell is Enerjak?

Before we move on to the second half of the fun, thrilling, and exciting Enerjak Reborn arc, I think it’s a good idea to pause and take a look back at where we came from. Reading this arc, you may be asking yourself: where’d this Enerjak guy come from? It’s been over six years since I covered the comics featuring the original Enerjak, after all (and I tended to skim over stuff a lot more back then)

So here’s a crash course in Archie’s original nemesis for Knuckles. The big question today is... did the original Enerjak ever DO anything?

As has been established, the original Enerjak was a powered up form Dimitri took on. Even if you’re not following all this too closely, you’ll probably recognize Dimitri as the floating cyborg echidna head. He’s pretty memorable in that form

In his youth, though, Dimitri was a normal echidna scientist working alongside his brother Edmund on Angel Island. Together, the two of them found the legendary Zoot Chute

This, of course, led them to the chamber of the twelve Chaos Emeralds (yes, twelve--the lore was different back then) that were holding Angel Island up in the air. It had been generations since the echidnas had Brexited their capital city into the sky to dodge the White Comet, and they figured, hey, maybe we should land this thing. And so Edmund and Dimitri set out to slowly syphon away the power of the Emeralds to do just that, gently lowering the floating landmass back into the crater it had left behind. A reasonable idea!

Except then their proposal to land Angel Island was denied, so Dimitri got pissed and stole the Chaos Syphon to do it anyway. But then the machine went HAYWIRE and he absorbed the energy himself and it flipped his morality switch from good to EVIL!!!

Boy, that was sudden!

From there Dimitri’s plan was to enslave everyone on Angel Island and make them turn the whole island into one big airship, from which Dimitri would subjugate the surface world

(No, the pirate motif isn’t an artist taking liberties with the script--Ken drew these lore dump backup stories himself)

Boy, this guy sure does have big plans! And he’s got the power to back it up, too, since he absorbed eleven whole Chaos Emer--oh, whoops, the fire ants chewed through the base of his spooky tower and he was immediately crushed by rocks before he could do literally anything else with his new power

From here, Edmund and his allies “renounced technology” and “destroyed their city” (not really, but that’s how the story goes). His descendants would become the Brotherhood of Guardians, eventually including Locke and Knuckles. This part of the lore dump gave me some of my favorite panels. Meanwhile, Dimitri’s side of the family sought revenge and went full techno-fascist, forming the Dark Legion

Fast forward a few hundred years to the events of the three-issue Knuckles miniseries, and Dimitri's HP finally recharges and he manages to escape from the rubble, ready for his first face-off with Knuckles! Except he’s no longer just Dimitri... he’s apparently now Enerjak!

While the echidna lore dump stories published literally immediately before this miniseries that Ken drew himself depicted Dimitri as simply turning all green and glowy in his powered up state, the art in the recap pages of this miniseries seems to retcon the story and say that he had actually turned into Enerjak. I’m not sure why you wouldn’t just use Enerjak in the original stories to set the persona up more instead of just having Dimitri turn green. Here Archimedes also refers to Enerjak as “the great evil of legend” even though no one is supposed to know about Dimitri’s Enerjak persona yet. Actually, this little point of confusion was expanded upon by Ian, which is why in his version of the canon Enerjak is an entity that multiple people can become, rather than just a supervillain persona for Dimitri. Anyway!

In this first confrontation, Enerjak displayed a few of the signature moves Knuckles has been using in the Enerjak Reborn arc. He’s able to unleash blasts of Chaos energy, freeze his opponents in place, and teleport them elsewhere. He uses this to make short work of the Chaotix and teleport Knuckles and Archimedes out to die in the desert of Sandopolis Zone

From there, Enerjak made a new evil citadel (guy just LOVES making evil citadels), this time made to resemble Echidnaopolis... except evil. He christened it “Nekronopolis.” He also, like... made some robots for Knuckles to fight, apparently based on robots they used to have in Echidnaopolis? Okay

In their final confrontation of the miniseries, Enerjak mind controls the Chaotix to make them fight Knuckles. He then starts going on and on about his unlimited power while struggling to kill a teenager, only to be undone when--surprise!--the fire ants show up and sabotage his fortress again. This time, though, they launch him into space with help from Locke instead of just making the citadel collapse on top of him. Oh, and then his evil fortress disappears. He leaves no mark on the status quo of the series in his first appearance aside from adding one more guy to the list of characters Knuckles has fought

Later, in issue #7 of the full Knuckles series, Enerjak is summoned back to Angel Island and meets the Dark Legion. Since he’s their beloved Dimitri, he immediately becomes their new leader. And so Enerjak gets his rematch with Knuckles. This time he uses new tricks like making himself giant and teleporting himself and Knuckles to various inhospitable locations like the moon. (Admittedly, the moon thing is cool.)

Eventually he gets bored toying with Knuckles, though, and he decides to just disintegrate him

BUT Knuckles is immediately saved by God the Ancient Walkers, who won’t allow one of their Chosen Ones to die so easily. So he comes back right away

Enerjak then leads the Dark Legion on an all-out assault on Echidnaopolis. He doesn’t really do much even though he could probably singlehandedly disintegrate the entire Echidnaopolis defense force with the snap of his fingers

And then Mammoth fucking Mogul shows up and drains him of all his power with the Sword of Acorns and turns him into a prune

No, Knuckles wasn’t even the one who beat his supposed nemesis in either fight

And that’s it for Enerjak! No, really! He appears in two story arcs for a total of six issues, and that’s it. He’s just regular old Dimitri from this point forward, eventually becoming a cyborg and then a head. He has no powers and is just a fascist

As with just about every other element of Ken’s Knuckles comics, Enerjak was all hype and no substance. Dimitri is an important figure in The Lore, but as Enerjak he doesn’t actually do anything with his unlimited power that has any lasting impact on the story whatsoever. He just taunts Knuckles and then gets his power slurped out by a mid-tier villain. It’s clear that Ken wanted to paint this as Dimitri repeatedly suffering for his hubris, but it sure would’ve been nice if he actually did anything before he loses each time. Like, honestly? If you took the Enerjak persona out of the story entirely and instead just had the Dark Legion bring back regular old Dimitri with their technology, very little about the overarching story would change. He also has absolutely zero nuance as a character, going from a well-intentioned if headstrong scientist to a world-conquering tyrant demigod to the leader of the techno-fascists at the drop of a hat when the story requires it

Needless to say, it is VERY SATISFYING to have Knuckles become a version of Enerjak with way more nuance and to see him actually do stuff with that power in Ian’s run. Not just cool fighting moves (although he has those!), but also stuff that will have a lasting impact on the series

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

YEEHAW IT’S MIDNIGHT WHICH MEANS IT’S AUGUST 1ST WHICH MEANS INK DEMONTH SO I CAN FINALLY POST THIS NOW:

1. Pride

Diversity win! There is not a single cishet in the hivemind of ink creatures (To their knowledge) that you slaughter on a daily basis to make yourself beautiful! AKA: Possum has a fuck ton of LBGT+ headcanons regarding the BATIM cast and is happy to use this DeMonth prompt to indulge them. (Set before the loop starts, but after Buddy Boris meets/befriends the lost ones.)

Malice flicked through the channels of her cameras, trying to find more prey in her territory, and stopped when she saw a gathering of the lost and the searching (and exactly one Boris, the most perfect one she had ever seen.) in the Heavenly toy’s lobby, their prophet was brazenly sitting on the side of the waterfall as if he did not fear the ink when he should have.

Her ears steamed with anger as she saw that group, it was far too large for her to deal with on her own and too far away from the Projectionist’s grounds for her to manage to lure him to them. But on the bright side, she could learn some important information from them, after all, with how casually the prophet was sitting and gesturing and how the other freaks in the crowd were responding, this was clearly not one of his normal sermons.

(“I still find it rather funny that almost none of us are straight and that the few straight ones among us are trans, it’s like all this time we thought we were sheep hiding away in wolves’ clothing among wolves, unaware that the “wolves” were simply other sheep in hiding as well!”)

[Funnily enough, I’d rather be a sheep than a wolf, I think it makes more sense for me to be an animal that’s helpful to others but also easily scared.] The Boris wrote on a typewriter. [Or at least, I wish I had some kind of input on what I am, but I doubt I’d make myself an animal…]

(“Speaking of which...”) The lost one next to the wolf whispered in his ear as she looked over his typing. (“How are you holding up, Buddy?”)

Instead of typing, the wolf drew himself shrugging and put a bunch of question marks around him, then stuck the drawn-on paper in his typewriter and added to it.

[It’s hard to think most of the time, Boris always seems stronger when I’m alone, but I know the Ink demon will find us if I stay with you, this hunger is driving me crazy, and I just wanna go home. But on the bright side, I don’t have to deal with periods, chest pain from binding, or people condescendingly calling me ‘Miss Lewek’ anymore.]

She turned on the sound in that room, watching them like one would watch a Tv drama, but what she heard caught her off guard.

“So as long as we’re being honest about ourselves with each other…” The lost one stood up and pointed accusingly at Sammy. “Were you and Joey and a thing all along before the machine came into the picture!?”

If she was drinking water, she would’ve spat it right back out. Sammy, with Joey?! In the latter’s dreams, maybe! Even a few of the other lost ones looked shocked at the question, the Boris even gasped loud enough for it to be audible.

“Technically yes, but not by choice, mind you.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

What the fuck indeed random lost one. The angel wished that she didn’t hear that, but now that she couldn’t unsee it, at least it made a little bit of sense in hindsight. After all, in her eyes, they were awful enough to deserve each other.

“...Why?”

“It’s just, well... somebody had to keep his eyes from wandering to the lambs- err- younger, more naive, less experienced employees, not children (to my knowledge). And at the time, I really thought that he did at least care about me beyond our work relationships, at least a little bit…  But from what I’ve seen, I believe the only things he had ever truly loved were himself, and the idealized versions he had made of other people. His ‘dream versions’ of them, if you will.”

“And this whole time, I thought he was running off with Susie with all those lunch dates! Or where the three of you all… yaknow, *together* together?”

 “Not knowingly… However I wouldn’t put it past Joey to cheat on people. As for Susie... I did like her, maybe even love her in a way, but I doubt I could ever love her in the way she wanted me to love her, and-or love her carnally. I don’t even think I could fake it like I could for Joey, she was never signing my checks and wasn’t holding that over my head so I’d be too disgusted to even try.”

Malice was almost about to march down there herself and push him into the ink, but she knew this troupe all too well, and knew that sometimes this place worked on story logic, he’s now going to say something that alters the context of that statement enough to not justify her going over there and slam dunking him into the ink.

“Now that I think of it, I don’t think that I’ve ever loved… anyone in that sense. I can’t think of a single person or situation where the idea of doing that is anything other than gross at best. In fact, there was someone who was close to me a long time ago, someone who, while I have long forgotten now, would perhaps even be what one could consider a soulmate. Even then, the mere thought of doing that with them still makes me queasy…” The prophet sighed. “I suppose I am simply meant to remain alone in religious celibacy. A relationship of that kind would interfere too much with my worship anyway.”

"Ahh fahr foehck's sake... I can't believe dat it's dis foehckin stupid..." A more lucid, absolute giant of a searcher in the back of the crowd slapped his forehead.

“It?” Malice repeated curiously. “Huh… maybe it and I had more in common than we thought.”

“You're clearly a sex-repoehlsed asexual, you doehmbass! literally everyahne who's ever been in de dark poehddles at de same time as you figured dis ooeht befahre you ded!” He shouted through cupped hands. “celibate people are people who WANT sex, boeht dahn't poehrsue it fahr variooehs reasahns, dey ARE NAHT people who are desgoehsted wit sex to de point where dey legitimately throw oehp and feel 'ahrreble after doin de nahrmal vanella stoehff! Stahp foehckin foehckin people when you're clearly naht cahmfortable wit it, and you and future partner..s? 'll be 'appier wit yooehr rahmantic poehrsuits!”

The searcher, upon realizing that he had furiously sworn at the Prophet, their leader, the one who does not fear anything within the studio, not even the deepest depths of the dark puddles, and most terrifyingly of all; the former music director, he slinked into a puddle within the crowd in fear of being the target of reawakened ancient wrath. Everybody else looked back and forth to the prophet and back at the searcher who spoke out as they remained in stunned silence, even their eavesdropper was worried for his fate, even if in her case she feared how the show would end rather than his outcome. Surprisingly, and luckily for him, the Prophet broke the tense silence by laughing in that caught-off-guard tone of it.

“While you were rather… crude about it, what you’ve said does make a lot more sense then Joey being so bad at sex that he turned me away from men altogether, even if it is funny to assume that he was.”

“A-aye… and I can't believe dat you wrahte an entire foehckin sahng abooeht it! 'ow ded you naht get fired fahr dat?!”

“Good question, I wish I could remember the answer…”

[Maybe you had blackmail on Drew?] The Boris typed out and handed to Sammy.

“Yeah, maybe because you used to be so close to him, you saw skeletons that Joey would want to keep in the closet” His lost-one friend added.

“Like HIMSELF!” A voice from the back added, making the others in the room burst into laughter.

With the tension in the room gone, the group just went back to talking about either journeys they took to become comfortable with themselves, or the various past relationships that they had, or wished they had or in some peoples’ cases, all three.

Malice continued to watch them bitterly. It was as if they had either forgotten what the outside world was like to people like them or they simply didn’t care, and she wasn’t thinking about the ink that made up their bodies. Part of her envied how freely they had talked about themselves and each other, part of her felt like she had been smacked across the face, and a third part of her felt lonely. All of them seemed so happy telling their stories and building each other up, and here she was hiding away with her own story that she had wished to bury.

However, there was no iron clad law stating that she couldn’t tell them her own story. In fact, maybe if she came out of her own cage, made Sammy understand that big part of why voicing Alice was so important to her, made sure that it understood that as the very first explicitly female character she voiced, that Alice Angel was more than a beloved character to her, that she was a part of her, the biggest symbol of her own femininity, then maybe it would recognize the error of its ways. Maybe it would see how devastating it would be to be shunted aside without notice in favor of someone newer, prettier, ‘more feminine’...

She shut off the camera and thought it over, and she made up her mind. While she still didn’t want to share her story with everyone, Sammy needed to know it. Whether the Prophet liked it or not, she was going to pay it a visit.

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Knitting You a Home - 5

Pairing: Wolf Hybrid Namjoon and Human Reader

Word Count: 2,745

Genre/Rating: Hybrid AU - Established Relationship - Angst - Fluff - Smut - PG-13

Overview: Things have changed for you and Namjoon. It’s been a year since the two of you got together, and despite a rocky start, it was impossible to deny the bond and love you shared for each other. But ever since Hoseok had been separated from his Mate, Namjoon has been withdrawing himself from you and doesn’t come home until late at night.

With questions far larger than either of you imagined, you can’t help but wonder if he’s let his past and old fears come back to haunt him. You had shown him that it was possible to have a home and be loved once before, but will you be able to do it again?

Warning: None

Playlist:

Main Master List:

Knitting You a Home Master List:

Mated Love is Never Easy Series Master List:

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - ?

©thatmultifandomhoe Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

The outside world faded away from Namjoon as he sat in his studio, scratching out lines that he’d previously written, trying to find another way that explained the way he was feeling that flowed with the song.

He had been like this for the last several hours, biding his time as Yoongi and him waited for the artist to arrive and listen to the tracks they had prepared, and to give them the input they needed on that one song.

“You know, as nice and passionate as he seems to be about his music,” Yoongi murmured, scrolling through his phone like he had been for the last few hours. “I really hate it when people are late and don’t bother to call and give a heads up.”

Namjoon hummed in agreement, not even bothering to check the time. Instead, he chewed on his bottom lip, sighing as he once again drew a harsh black line. The page had slowly filled in with more crossed out lyrics than when he started rewriting it this morning.

He had felt bad leaving you in bed this morning, again. Like clockwork, he’d leave the house by seven thirty to guarantee he’d make it to the bus stop to get to work ten minutes before eight, but this morning had been different. Those few moments you shared when he did crawl into bed hadn’t happened this time, and it left him feeling off centered. You had ended your day not knowing if he came home, and were going to start it off waking up and wondering if he had come home.

Then he ended up not being able to go visit you during his lunch break, because by a stroke of luck, Yoongi had called him over to Genius Studio to go over an idea he had on the unspeakable song. They had nicknamed it that when the rapper turned down another version that they had for it this morning.

It was only a quick and short text that he was able to send to you before going over to Yoongi’s studio, feeling even guiltier. If his math was correct, then you hadn’t seen him since yesterday at lunch. Which was one thing if the two of you lived in separate houses and were only dating, but you lived with each other, shared the same bed, your paths should have crossed more than once.

Not hearing a reply from Namjoon, Yoongi lifted his head, shifting on the couch to see that his friend was still leaned back in his chair. His feet were propped up on the drawer of his desk with the notebook against his legs.

Yoongi’s tail lightly thumped against the couch – not even Namjoon’s ears flicked in his direction – and he glanced at the time. It wasn’t late like yesterday, only eight, but just like the other day he wanted Namjoon to go home. He was concerned about his friend and thought that he needed to get away from the studio and spend some time with you.

Maybe by being with you, Namjoon would realize that it didn’t matter whether there was a ring on your finger, or a Mate Mark on your neck, you were the love of his life and he was yours, and that was all that mattered.

“Mixtape?” He finally asked, curious as to which project Namjoon was working on.

Namjoon nodded, finally turning to the next clean page to write out what he had. Maybe if it wasn’t surrounded by scribbles and cross outs, he’d be able to figure out the next few lines before the chorus.

Namjoon reached out and tapped on his phone out of habit, curious if you had messaged him. The lock screen photo made him smile, taking a moment to admire it before going to his messages. It was from the morning after one of his heats and naturally, he had woken up before you. Sunlight had streamed through the curtains, highlighting your body in an otherworldly glow as you slept. The only adjustment he had made was when he brushed your hair off your neck, revealing the – at the time – Mate Mark that was only a couple days old.

It was a picture that relaxed and sent a wave of pride through him. While the day that you officially adopted him was one of the happiest days of his life, this particular moment in time was forever ingrained in his heart. He had found the one person meant for him.

When he finally pulled up his messages, he smiled as he saw an unread text from you.

From Angel:

Don’t worry about it Joonie! I have some news to tell you when you come home, so I’ll see you tonight. Love you!

He hoped you hadn’t gone overboard with dinner, but knowing you, you probably dug out the cookbooks and decided to try a new recipe. Without a doubt there’d be a plate fixed up for him waiting in the fridge for him when he came home. The gesture was sweet and while he was thankful for you thinking of him, it only made him want to come home at a normal time to eat it with you, when it was done cooking.

A knocking at the door captured his attention, forcing him to slide his notebook closed with the flyer for the underground rap battle serving as a bookmark back into the drawer when Yoongi opened the door. Namjoon hid his surprise when not only the rapper entered the room – apologizing for being so late – but a woman entered with him, her hand clasped in his own.

One inhale and Namjoon was gripping the arm of his chair, feeling like he had gotten run over when the scent of her overbearing perfume hit him, along with the rapper’s scent coming from her as well.

In some shape or form, these two were together, and they hadn’t been late due to dinner as he was telling Yoongi.

“Well,” Namjoon spoke, clearing his throat as he shook hands with the artist and then his, friend. “Why don’t we get started.”

As everyone got comfortable, Namjoon glanced at Yoongi over their heads, raising an eyebrow at his older friend.

Yoongi simply scrunched up his nose, tail flickering in agitation at the humans overpowering scents.

It was going to be a long night.

“Knit one, pearl two,” you softly murmured, reading over the knitting pattern. Dinner had long since been put away and the dishes cleaned up, a plate already made up and set aside in the fridge for Namjoon for when he came home.

Since you were officially on vacation, you were sitting on the couch with a pattern you had printed out God knows how long ago. It was for a baby blanket, and as you had been rifling through your binder of patterns, you couldn’t help but linger on this particular one. It was too soon to assume – with Hoseok leaving for a year at the end of the month it certainly wasn’t going to happen – but you couldn’t help but think that Sarah would need it. If not now then she would one day for sure. Something told you that her and Hoseok weren’t going to have only one child.

And if not, it’ll make a beautiful display for the shop, you thought, writing a check mark in your notebook next to row one, continuing on to the next one. Right now, it just looked like a long section of yellow yarn. Give it a few days and it would look like the picture, a baby blanket with a seashell design big enough to wrap the baby up in or to put in the crib.

Sighing, you glanced at the clock on the wall, not surprised that Namjoon wasn’t home. It was only nine, too early for him to even consider leaving work.

It hadn’t always been like this. He used to come home at a normal time, or the latest at least eight pm. That had been when he first started working for the music company. With Yoongi by his side guiding him, Namjoon had managed to work his way up and was able to produce music alongside with Yoongi. The promotion had surprised even you, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was that Namjoon was doing a job that he loved, and from the stories he told you with bright smiles, the hours he spent at the studio were worth all the late nights.

Of course, you missed him. You missed teasing him as he tried to help prepare dinner, and curling up on the couch when the dishes were done. Tender moments of when the two of you were in separate worlds, him lost in a story or new book of poetry and you knitting up a new project, but always connected as he pulled your legs over his lap and would run his palm along your bare skin. Those were the sweetest memories that you missed.

Tonight, was nearly identical to those precious moments. The TV was on low, your legs stretched out on the couch as the knitting needles clicked together. The only thing that was missing, was Namjoon.

Namjoon pressed down on the back of his neck, groaning as he entered the house. The night had gone exactly as he had thought, and they were still left with the unspeakable song to do. Every idea and suggestion ended up crumpled up and thrown in the trashcan.

By the time the artist and his girlfriend left, both him and Yoongi reeked  of the perfume she wore, and Namjoon was growling in irritability because his studio no longer had his scent. He had spent the last hour trying to rid the room of hers, but it was no use. The only female scent that belonged in there was yours, and he was debating on having you come by one day to help restore order. Until he got a shower and smelled like himself again, scenting his studio was absolutely pointless.

He stopped short in the living room however, his thoughts hitting pause as he walked around the couch to see you asleep. The basket that held your knitting was placed on the floor next to the end table, the throw blanket that was usually over your chair half haphazardly covered your body.

The sight of you sleeping eased some of his distress, but it only raised a new worry now. Crouching down, he gently brushed back the hair that had fallen, a soft smile appearing on his face as he gazed at you. There was probably a good reason you were out here instead of in bed, but like a quick fire, guilt plagued him at the thought that you had been waiting for him. He remembered that you had wanted to tell him something, but he didn’t think it was serious enough for you to camp out on the couch.

“Angel,” he softly called out, running his knuckles against your temple. “Wake up sweetheart, it’s time for bed.”

A soft groan came from your lips, making him chuckle, but he continued on. “Come on, you know an angel like you isn’t meant to sleep on a couch.”

You tiredly smiled before opening your eyes, relishing at the sight of Namjoon. “The only angel I see here is you.” You stretched a hand out to cup his cheek, sighing at the content sound of his growl.

Namjoon ducked his head down, chuckling as he gazed lovingly at you. A wave of deja view had him taking a trip down memory lane, recalling another time when he had come home to find you sleeping on the couch in an attempt to wait up for him.

“Why weren’t you sleeping in your bed?” He hoarsely asked, watching you unfold the towel and settle it on his hair, all while being mindful of his ears. He hadn’t expected the rain and he was soaked as a result of the sudden storm.

You didn’t answer for a few moments. Instead you were focused on drying his hair and gathering your thoughts. “I was waiting for you to come home,” you finally answered, moving the towel off his head. His wolf ears lifted up, bringing a soft smile to your face despite the serious situation at hand, and began to carefully dry them as well.

His eyes burned with tears and despite biting his lip and trying to think of anything else, he couldn’t. Never before had a place been a home for Namjoon. The feeling was foreign and it scared him. The idea of there being a place where he felt safe, cared about, and loved terrified him, so he ran.

He ran until he realized there was no-where he wanted to be than with you, that the only person he wanted was you. He loved the things that you knitted him, he enjoyed starting his weekend off with you on the couch drinking coffee and watching those wedding shows.

He loved the way your house always smelled like something was being baked, and he sincerely appreciated that after he woke up from a nightmare, you were there to coax him out into the kitchen where you prepared to make tea or coffee and a late-night snack to take his mind off of his memories. You never forced him to, but he knew that you’d listen if he wanted to talk about it.

Without a second thought, he wrapped his arms around your hips, pulling you closer so he was able to rest his forehead against your stomach.

The tears slid down his cheeks as he sobbed, his grip tightening the slightest when he felt you move. But it was only to set the towel on the table as you wrapped your own arms around his shoulders, gently rubbing your hands in circles on his back.

“It’s okay Namjoon,” you softly spoke. “You’re home now. It’s gonna be okay.”

Shaking his head, he gently slid an arm underneath you to help you sit up right. “Are you awake enough to tell me about that news?” He teasingly asked.

You frowned up at him but realization dawned on your features, resulting in him chuckling as you nodded. Holding your hands out, Namjoon took them in his as he pulled you up, immediately leading you to the bedroom.

“Well as of today, Grandma has declared that I’m on vacation,” you told him. He slid his arm around your waist and you leaned into him, your nose scrunching up at the citrus smell on his shirt.

“She finally got tired of you?” He joked, not noticing the way your face fell.

Licking your lips, you frowned as a headache began to form behind your eyes at the scent. “She says that we work too much and don’t spend enough time together.”

“Was there the mention of us having kids?”

“That we should be in a certain room in our house more than we are.”

Namjoon snorted, watching as you sat down on the bed before going to his dresser and pulling out a new pair of boxers. “I need a quick shower but I shouldn’t be long.” He smiled as he walked back towards you, kissing your lips briefly before heading to the bathroom.

The water was heard instantly. You were staring at the doorway, wondering if he had known. He had to know that he reeked of another woman’s perfume, his own sense of smell was heightened incredibly compared to yours but yet, he didn’t say anything. There was no explanation for why he smelled like that.

Reaching up to touch the side of your neck, you shakily inhaled as you forced yourself to dress for bed, curling up under the blankets on your side.

It was the first time that he was home before midnight. The first time in so damn long that the two of you were going to bed at the same time, and he smelled of another woman. While you figured there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for it, your heart seemed to hang in your chest.

By the time he crawled in behind you, burying his face in your neck and softly kissing the skin, you couldn’t erase the venomous thought that there was no other reason for why he was staying so late at the studio anymore.

Before you had wondered if…now you were wondering just who wore that disgusting perfume. 

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.18 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch has already dealt with the local sheriff about his adventures in the local woods. Seems like Edge might have a thing or three to say.

~~*~~

Read ‘Electric Boogaloo’ on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was funny how some things become automatic. Stretch was still thinking about Buford when Edge came into the store not long after the sheriff left. Still thinking about those strange white eyes of his, wondering at exactly how much he could see. How much, how far, how deep did it go. Stretch knew a little something himself about seeing a bit too much.

Still, habits were habits. Even though his mind wasn’t necessarily working in the here and now, Stretch automatically stood up straight and greeted Edge when he came in, customer service skills were a heck of a learned trait, even if he was the only one who worked here that had them.

“morning, hey, what’s up? what do you—" need, he didn’t get to say. He barely had time to notice that Edge didn’t look like his normal gorgeous self, hips notwithstanding. Sure, he was wearing his normal motorhuckle gear and he was walking like he was on his way to kill Captain America. But he looked pale, his skull chalk-white and stark, his eye lights faded to a shade closer to dull pink.

That wasn’t what cut off his ‘can i help you’ spiel. Nope, that was Edge stalking right over to the counter and around it into the register area. Stretch found himself roughly pulled into Edge’s arms and held in a painfully tight hug that nearly threatened to crack ribs.

Okay? This was new but fuck it if Stretch wasn’t going to go for it. He wrapped both arms around Edge and squeezed back, relished the feel of that long, lean body against his own, even buffered under a layer of leather. “um. hi?”

Edge said nothing, only held on, with all ten fingers digging in through the back of Stretch’s t-shirt and damned if he was gonna try fight his way loose. Was it his imagination or was Edge shaking a little? Or maybe that was the earth moving under his feet because Edge smelled so good, no bone cologne could compare. Like spice and woodsmoke, like the heavenly pies he made for Mama’s.

Nothing to be done for it, might as well dive into the deep end and see if he could drown. Stretch closed his sockets and basked in it, reveled in it. Maybe this was some weird frosting on top of an already bizarre cake but Stretch really wanted his slice.

After a minute, Edge was showing no signs of letting up and much as Stretch would’ve been perfectly fine standing like this all day, probably he should say something. It’d be pretty hard to run register if he was stuck to Edge like a conjoined twin and considering that they were sort of the same person, maybe better not to risk it.

It was just a damn shame that Stretch was so shitty at digging beneath the layers of other people’s traumas. Hell, he could barely take a shovel to his own.

He managed to work up enough air to wheeze out, “is…something wrong?” A horrible thought occurred. What if he wasn’t the only person the lady ghoul went to visit last night? Maybe she took the nickel tour of the woods, maybe Buford’s all-seeing eye blinked and missed something. “is frisk okay?”

“Yes,” Edge choked out. His voice was muffled into Stretch’s shoulder. “Everything is fine.”

Stretch shifted in his arms and only managed about an inch in any direction. “don’t take this the wrong way, but as fine as this feels, you don’t seem fine.”

That didn’t get any reply. Instead, Edge loosened his grip just enough to press his face into the hollow of Stretch’s collarbone where he inhaled deeply, mouth opened as if he wanted to taste whatever scent gathered there, get the whole experience.

Um. Holy shit. Okay, well, that was a fetish Stretch never knew he had, and if he wasn’t pinned like a sardine in Edge’s kung-fu grip, he might’ve honest to angel flailed at the feel of damp, hot breath against his clavicles. Every time Edge decided to go through his scratch ‘n sniff routine, it sent willie wonkers tingling right up his spine and right down his pants. All he could do was grit his teeth and stare blankly up at the ceiling as he tried desperately not to embarrass himself any more than the usual.

Finally, all too soon, Edge drew away. He took two steps back, putting some distance between them. He seemed almost embarrassed now and Stretch could only reluctantly let him go.

He was really, really grateful for his work apron right about now; good for catching dust and gook, with a side bonus of hiding inconvenient boners. Hopefully it wasn’t the not-at-all-a-pencil-in-his-pocket that chased Edge away. “not that i mind, like, really not, but you think you could let me in on what that was all about?”

“I’m sorry,” Edge said, stiffly. He crammed his hands into his jacket pockets and looked anywhere but at Stretch.

“uh, nope,” Stretch shook his head, “no apologies, hugs are free real estate.” He’d been this close to Edge before a couple of times but always before there had been distractions. Now looking at him was the distraction and Stretch let his gaze linger on the razer-sharp lines of his cheekbones, the tight narrowing of his eye sockets. The crack that ran through his left socket was obviously old, the edges worn relatively smooth, smoother than their owner.

Edge still didn’t look at him, not directly, anyway. A flick of his eye lights towards Stretch, then back away as he said, tightly. “We came very close to losing you last night. It was…upsetting.”

Oh.

Well, good news traveled fast, didn’t it, basically at the speed of light around these parts. He wondered glumly if Red was in his apartment busily composing a profanity-laden symphony titled ‘I Told You So.’

“How did you know?” Stretch sighed out. Maybe Frisk was tuned in to the local airwaves or Edgar Allen might branch out into branches instead of corn gossip.

“Buford,” Edge admitted. “He is the town constable, he looks after the town. Literally, in his case.”

Also had a big mouth, seemed like. “yeah, uh, he showed me his eyes.”

“Did he?” Edge seemed surprised, then pleased. “He usually wears his sunglasses. He rarely takes them off when he’s on duty because outsiders tend to find his eyes unsettling. But yes, it’s his duty to watch out for problems and he does it well.”

Stretch nodded slowly, “must be tough on him sometimes, seeing all that.” He had a little personal experience in that.

“Buford does his duty,” Edge said with a certain finality. Welp, looked like that topic was done and Stretch was fine with that since Edge was starting to look a little calmer. His eye lights weren’t on Stretch’s but lower, focused more on the mouth region and when Stretch flicked his tongue across his teeth nervously, those crimson lights went heavy and dark.

To his disappointment, Edge didn’t go for Ginormous Hug 2: Electric Boogaloo. Instead, he reeled back, shaking himself visibly and turning towards the door. “Well. I only wanted to check in on you, I should be going.”

“wait!” Stretch blurted and Edge hesitated, raising one browbone. “don’t go, not yet.”

He waved a hand in offering at the stool behind the counter and after a moment of hesitation, Edge stepped around the dog and took it. Mutt never stirred, burrowed down in the blanket Red had laid down for him, snoring away. Good thing they hadn’t been in the market for a guard dog.

Stretch hopped up on the counter to sit, (hey, his butt was cleaner than the whole store had been when he first got here) and wondered what the hell to do now. He’d wanted Edge to stay and now he didn’t know what to talk about. Every other chat they’d had was about some kind of Backwater weirdness, the peanut butter and pickle sandwich version of a conversation. He wasn’t sure he even knew how to have a white bread and butter chat.

Edge seemed to agree. He swiped a finger along one of the shelves behind the counter and checked the results, finding it to be relatively dust-free. “The store is looking much better since my brother hired you on.”

“yeah,” Stretch latched on to that topic gratefully, it was marginally better than bringing up the weather. “try to keep up on it. he’s paying me well enough for it, plus room and board, figured i can do my mr clean impression.” He gave the top of his skull a pat. “i’ve already got the bald part down.”

Edge made a rough, scoffing sound and even that was somehow delicious in that voice of his. “I suspect most of what fills up your board comes from my kitchen.”

Stretch suspected the same but leapt to his landlord’s defense, anyway, he owned Red that much and more. “hey, red is a damn fine microwave wrangler when he puts his mind to it.” Okay, so that was less of a leap than a trip and miss, but he’d tried. Maybe better to steer the topic boat out of the rapids and into calmer water. “my bro likes to cook, too.”

“Is he very good?” Edge leaned forward curiously, propping his chin up on a hand.

Woah, wait, abandon ship, that was not calmer waters, that was a storm a’brewing, a freaking typhoon. “good is relative,” Stretch said stoutly.

“Ah,” One corner of Edge’s mouth curled up into a smile. “Rest assured, I would never force you to disparage your brother’s cooking. If it’s any comfort, my recipes were somewhat unique when we first came here as well. Like the garden, it took some time for my skills to come into bloom.”

“seriously?” There was a little too much naked relief in that one word but fuck it, Blue wasn’t here to hear it, “so how many years until he’s less ‘nailed it’ and more ‘chef’s table’?”

That half-smile widened. “Time is also relative, as are brothers. How is your brother, I’m assuming he’s still back in Ebott. Have you spoken to him since you came here?”

Welp, he’d avoided the storm only to end up in shark-infested waters, wasn’t that just his luck, “sort of,” Stretch hedged.

Edge’s teeth parted in a silent ‘ah’ as he successfully decoded that message. “You texted him. Well, that’s better than leaving him completely in the dark.”

“i think he’s doing okay. he was even before i left.” He really hoped so, but then, Blue settled in easily enough from the start. From the Human’s perspective, his bro looked a little like he’d stepped out of some kind of cartoon. He was small and adorable, his starry eye lights in his huge sockets were as cute as if Disney blessed him from beyond the grave. Stretch didn’t begrudge his brother for that, ‘course he didn’t, but that didn’t make his own experiences easy cheesy. “frisk was pretty right about ebott. when it comes to monsters, it sure isn’t backwater.”

“I’m sorry.” Said with enough quiet sincerity to make Stretch shift uncomfortably.

He shrugged weakly. “eh, not your fault.”

“No, but I can still let you share your pains.” Edge reached up and took his hand. He rubbed a scarred thumb gently over his knuckles and Stretch caught his breath. “You know, I used to dream about coming to the surface. Back in my world, in the Underground. Frisk told you that it was a place of LV, not love. My brother and I spent much of our time there simply struggling to survive.” The reminiscence in Edge’s voice held no hint of fondness, but there was a certain faint wistfulness. “I had such grand dreams of what the surface world would be like back then. Hope was difficult to come by in my universe, I never truly believed a human would come and when they did, well.” Edge chuckled and there was the fondness missing from before. “Frisk was not at all what I imagined.”

“did the surface world live up to your dreams?” Stretch asked, curiously. His own dreams of the Aboveground were shaken to their foundations barely an hour into the sunlight, when the first Humans to arrive greeted them not with welcome, but with automatic rifles.

“In some ways,” Edge said. “Mostly, it’s very different from what I imagine. But like Frisk, not necessarily in a bad way.”

“ebott is sure fucking different then i imagined,” Stretch only realized how hard he was squeezing Edge’s hand when both of their joints popped. He loosened his grip, then pulled away entirely, picking up the pen from the counter to fiddle with; at least if he broke that, he’d be the only one stained. “doesn’t matter, anyway. i’m not there right now, am i.”

“Indeed not. You’re here, and Backwater is probably as different from Ebott as it is the Underground.” Edge stood in a jangling, creaking rhapsody of leather and buckles. “On that note, I do need to get going.”

Stretch stood too, hopping down from the counter. Much as he’d like Edge to stay, he did have some work to get done and who knew what Edge needed to get back to. “thank you for checking in on me.”

“Of course.” Too fast for Stretch to do more than blink, Edge leaned in and Stretch stood frozen as he pressed a chaste kiss to his cheekbone, the delicate scrape of his teeth almost ticklish against sensitive bone. He pulled back before Stretch managed to gather up all his scattered wits, and his smile was the soft, real one as he said, “I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

“soon,” Stretch parroted dumbly. He stood there like an idiot and watched Edge leave, only coming back to himself at the jangle of the bell over the door. Then he cursed himself, roundly and in every language he knew, including modified flamespeak. Smooth moves, there, Marvin Gaye, couldn’t even turn your head for a real kiss? Just stood there with crotch plug store book and didn’t even try to kick it up a notch? But he’d gotten one hell of a hug and a hand fondle, that was worth nearly getting eaten by Lady Cthulhu out there.

Well, almost.

“mind not getting your sop all over my counter?”

Stretch whirled around, barely managing not to trip over his own feet, to see Red standing in the hallway entrance. He was leaning heavily on his cane with a brutally unimpressed look on his face.

Fuck.

“i’m sorry—” Stretch began and faltered, unsure of what to say. He’d tried to listen to Red, he really had. He’d warned Stretch against starting anything with his bro from the beginning, offered plenty of warnings against rebound fucks and people getting hurt, and Stretch had tried. Except he hadn’t, had he, not really, and he could try to blame Edge’s hips and that gorgeous voice all he wanted; in the end, it was his fault, just like everything else. He hadn’t really been fighting that hard, why would he, it wasn’t like he wanted to win.

Red only sighed heavily and waved him off. “ain’t nothing to be sorry for. toldja before, i ain’t worried about my bro. you’re the one keepin’ me awake at night.”

“speaking of worrying,” Stretch took a deep breath before plunging forward, away from the sharks and heading into the shallows where the piranhas swam. “look, before anyone else decides to spill the beans, i need to tell you something.”

Red held up a hand and Stretch fell silent. “lemme get my coffee first.”

Coffee sounded better than it had any right to and, in his chest, Stretch’s soul gave an uncomfortable lurch like it could hop out and get a cup of its own. Hopefully, he asked, “can i get some?”

“yeah, sure,” Red turned back towards the apartment and tossed back over his shoulder, “whatcha want in it?”

“honey?” May as well dream big.

“yeah, darlin’?”

What? ”No!” Stretch blurted. “I mean…I didn’t…”

“yeah, yeah,” Red snickered. “i gotcha, brat.”

It was both entirely too long and much too quickly that Red made his way back with two heavy white mugs that looked as if they’d been stolen from Mama’s diner. He handed one to Stretch and settled in to lean against the counter, sipping from his own. “so, this about why you and my bro were cozying up behind the counter?”

“uh, sort of,” Stretch hedged. He stalled by taking a sip of his coffee, glorying in the thick, over-sweetened brew. “he came by because buford got a hold of him.”

Red lurched upright as if someone goosed him right on his tailbone. Hot coffee sloshed over his hand and he hissed, shaking his wet, stinging fingers as he demanded, “he did what now? what the fuck happened?”

“it’s not that bad.”

It was a weak attempt at best, not that it mattered. Red didn’t fall for it in the slightest. He didn’t move, there was no noticeable change in his breathing or posture, but the sardonic humor that seemed to cling to Red like another shirt evaporated entirely and left behind nothing but cold sincerity. “buford don’t exactly text, he don’t get ahold of anyone unless—” Red stopped and gave Stretch a coolly assessing glance that he squirmed beneath. Quietly, he said, “kid, what did you do?”

“i didn’t do it!” Stretch blurted and no amount of defending himself to his own brother or even the Ebott police could have prepared him for this. “the dog ran off, but i didn’t go into the woods! not until—there was this…this thing!” Stretch gestured wildly, trying ineffectively to convey with skinny bone hands the shadowy, awful creature that lured him into the dark last night. He couldn’t hold back a shudder of revulsion, simply thinking about it was filling him with a renewed sense of horror. “it looked like a woman and then it didn’t, she was singing, she was doing something, and i couldn’t stop myself, i couldn’t even think!”

He stopped, panting, and Red said nothing. He only stood there statue-still and Stretch would have given about anything for the door to open, the bell to jangle as someone looking for a fresh supply of ass wipers broke that awful silence.

Desperately, Stretch pressed on, letting out a nervous laugh. “anyway, i’m okay. she didn’t touch me or bite me or anything. i got out okay.” He didn’t mention the bone dragon, wasn’t even sure why, but Red was still frozen and silent over hearing about one terrifying encounter, maybe better not to mention two.

“red?” Stretch tried, hating how his voice sounded so small and forlorn. In a dismal corner of his mind, he was already mentally packing his bags. He couldn’t go back to Ebott, not now, not yet, but where else could he go, what other job could he possibly find? Maybe a waiter at Mama’s or maybe the thrift shop needed a helping hand. He didn’t know. The little money he had wouldn’t last long and definitely not in a bigger city. He didn’t really have any options, no choices at all.

He jerked back as Red suddenly jolted into movement, limping around the counter without his cane. He staggered almost drunkenly and then swung around to violently ram his fist into the first rack of the shelves. The wooden frame rocked and groaned, scattering boxes and cans to the floor on either side. A small bag of cornmeal fell and burst open, scattering dusty yellow across the floorboards.

“i…i’ll just…” Stretch couldn’t say go, he couldn’t, saying it would make this real, and he couldn’t let it be real. He took a step towards the hallway, tasting heavy tears on the back of his tongue.

Red’s voice stopped him, “kid.”

Stretch stood there and watched Red wrap both arms around himself. The fingers of one hand were streaked with marrow, he’d probably cracked his phalanges, but Red only shuddered faintly, drawing in a long breath and letting it out in a shaky rattle as he said, “if i’d’ve known she was awake, i woulda warned ya.”

Oh.

Oh, that made a terrible amount of sense and it didn’t make Stretch feel one fucking bit better to realize that Red wasn’t mad at him.

“it’s fine, red,” Stretch said, gently. It was hard to bank his own fears, but he managed, “it’s not your fault. i’m okay.”

Red heaved out a hitching little sigh and Stretch didn’t need Buford’s powers or his own magic to see that Red didn’t believe that, not even a little.

“okay,” he muttered under his breath, low and indistinct, “okay, okay.” Then louder, “okay, kid, get on out of here.”

“you’re firing me?” Stretch blurted, horrified. He’d begun to believe it was all right, more fool he, hadn’t he had the rug ripped out from under him enough times by now, when would he ever learn?

“what?” Red said, aghast. “fuck no! take a little time off, is all, after a shitty night like that, you need it. go see a movie, ‘wizard of oz’ ’s playin’, think it’ll be right up your alley.”

Relief left him weak, but he made no move towards the door. “but. your hand?”

“what about my hand?” Red raised his browbones and his hand at once and Stretch stared at the clean, pristine bones in confusion, what the fuck, he was sure he’d seen—

“okay, but,” Stretch still didn’t want to leave, some part of him vaguely convinced that if he left he wouldn’t be able to come back, like this shabby little store was some kind of fae place. “here, let me clean up.”

“i can fucking clean,” Red said impatiently. “been doing it since long before you got here.” He hooked his perfectly unbroken thumb at the door, “now, git! scoot!”

It seemed better not to comment on Red’s cleaning skills. Stretch hung up his apron and obediently scooted while Red limped over to the broom.

Outside, the temperature was just above a swelter. Stretch headed towards the theater even as the kids pulled up by the shop and dropped their bikes to head in, about five minutes too late.

Red had the right idea, he decided tiredly. A movie sounded like a good idea right about now. If, that was, he could stay awake through the opening credits.

tbc

[echidnapower]

EP’s FanFiction Master Post

So this is something I should have done a long time ago on my previous account, but better late than never. For those of you who find me, this is going to be a place where you can find all the fics I’ve written over the years. This will be added to over time as I fight to revive my muse.

It’ll be categorized by fandom, so you can quickly find what you do or don’t want to read. Here we go.

Pokemon

A Valentines Dream Come True -  It's Valentines Day, and a certain redheaded Gym Leader is finally getting to enjoy it with the boyfriend of her dreams. During their time together, they get into a little discussion about dreams, and Ash doesn't wanna tell her his! So to get him to spill, she tells him her dreams...when she finally learns Ash's dream...will both their dreams come true? - Based on a drawing from @miyatoriaka​, which can be found HERE.

AAML: Diamond and Pearl Version -  Follow me as I remake the DP episodes in order and in sequence, all so I can add the biggest star besides Ash himself. Misty! Watch her and Ash's love grow as they go on their journey. The absolute LONGEST story in my portfolio, and you will see my writing evolve the longer you go on. Be prepared for a massive read that even now is STILL going.

All I Want For Christmas Is You -  It's Christmas time and the Ketchum household is hosting a party with all of Ash's friends. But while Ash and Misty dance around their feelings for each other, another Sensational Sister is about to find herself in a situation she never could have expected, but she'll be darned if she lets it slip through her manicured fingers. (Spinoff of @hollylu-ships-it​‘s "A Christmas in Kanto" comic which can be found HERE.

Best Friend -  "Why? Why did I have to be so stupid as to make the mistake of falling in love with my best friend?" - Story told in Misty’s POV.

Blessings From Heaven -  I'm Ash Ketchum, and I'm getting married today! But how did this come to be? Through God's devine planning is how. Here's my story: I'm marrying Misty. - Warning for religious themes, told in Ash’s POV.

I Miss You -  Misty misses Ash terribly, and it's affecting her emotionally as she's more irritable than usual, if that was even possible. But Daisy has a plan to get Ash to come and see Misty again. Will her plan have the desired effect? Or will it cause something she never could've seen coming? - Based on a trio of drawings from the long lost Simply-Nicole. The old art can be found on my dA page HERE, HERE, and HERE.

I’m Misty, and You Are? -  Misty tells the story we all know and love...literally. She's telling the story. Based on artwork from the long lost Simply-Nicole, which can be found on my old dA page HERE.

Keep The Faith - This time it's May and Drew getting married, and it takes place in the "Blessings From Heaven" universe. Warning for religious themes.

Looks -  It's Ash's birthday and all of his friends have gathered together in the woods to reminisce on the time they spent traveling with their favorite Pokemon Trainer. But something's about to happen that could change the way that Ash and Misty look at each other forever…the question is, is it for the better?

Lovesick -  Kenny is feeling strange...he feels like he's sick...but is he really ill? Or is he just lovesick?

Madam Zara -  When Misty decides to get experimental with her appearance, she finds herself in the hands of a world-famous beautician named Madam Zara. With most of Misty's makeovers ending less than ideally, will this be the one to shatter the mold? And how will Ash react? - Based on a drawing and idea from @hollylu-ships-it​ which can be found HERE.

Our Own Sunset -  Ash and Misty watch the sunset together, but Misty's bothered by it. - Set in the AAML: Diamond and Pearl version universe.

Pokeshipping Week 2015 - My first time participating in Pokeshipping Week ever, hard to believe it was five years ago.

Pokeshipping Week 2016 - This year of Pokeshipping saw me collab with @hollylu-ships-it​, you can see the art she put together on her Tumblr page.

Symptoms of Love -  Ash and Tracey are hit by a Vileplume's Stun Spore, and Misty has to fend for herself in order to find a cure. But once she gets Ash back to health, Ash still feels many of the same symptoms from before. Why is that?

Tell Me I’m Pretty -  It isn't easy being the youngest sister, especially when your oldest sister is getting married and you're the only one without a date for the once in a lifetime event. Misty can't help but feel like she doesn't measure up somehow, but a surprise visit from her closest friend is sure to make her feel pretty once more. - Inspired by THIS piece from @hollylu-ships-it​.

The Road Not Taken -  When Ash gets some bad news from home, he goes into a depression and starts doubting both himself and the choices he's made. But luckily, someone is there with him to remind him he's loved and cared about. - Based on yet another drawing from @hollylu-ships-it​. Look at it HERE.

Warmth -  It's New Years Eve, and the recently married Ash and Misty Ketchum are ready to host their first ever holiday party at their home together, but when a snowstorm makes it so no one can arrive safely, Misty is saddened. But will they really end up spending their New Years Eve alone? Or will surprise visitors warm their hearts?

Super Robot Monkey Team Hyperforce Go

Iron Girl -  A robot girl who hates the fact she's a robot...will she realize just how important she is or will she continue to simply wallow in self-pity?

War Between the Living and the Dead -  The war between the living and the dead has begun, and the Hyperforce has to go up against their biggest challenge yet. But with help from their allies across the galaxy, they can triumph! Or can they? This is my take on what Season 5 would've been, plugging plotholes and making sense out of a series that left us all hanging.

Buzz Lightyear of Star Command

Reflections of a Legend -  Buzz Lightyear Personal Log - Stardate 92893.81. I don't quite know how to explain this, or what I'm feeling, so I guess I'll just start talking and tell you what's on my mind. There's someone I just can't get out of my head, and truthfully, I'm not sure I want to. - This is a first-person dive into Buzz’s character.

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Kim Possible

Angels Watching Over Me -  Kim and Ron are going down a dark path that could eventually end in their own destruction...literally, not figuratively. When the Sloth dangles over a cliff that holds their fate in the balance, who will come in their time of need? How about...someone they never could have dreamed? - Based on a true story, warning for religious themes.

Busted -  Hana wants cookie, Hana tries to get cookie, Hana gets caught trying to get cookie.

The Running Back -  All-star Running back Ron Stoppable is about to face the biggest challenge of his life. He's got just a few seconds to win the championship for the Middleton Mad Dogs, but more importantly to him, he's got just a few seconds to make his girlfriend proud.

The True Meaning -  Both Ron and Kim are well aware of the true meaning of Christmas, and that's why they're volunteering at a church's Bethlehem Revisited event to spread the word. Kim's happy to help and all, but...why is Ron calling her such a weird name? - Warning for religious themes.

Trick or Treat -  Kim is pulling a trick on Ron, will it be a great treat, or is he about to suffer the wrath of Kim Possible? He has no clue, yet.

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Fillmore!

A Promising Tomorrow -  Takes place immediately after the end of the episode "A Forgotten Yesterday." Fillmore's lost two of his old friends now and needless to say, he's tired of losing people to the darkness he was lucky enough to escape from. Luckily, Ingrid's there to show him that his efforts to rehabilitate his delinquent friends haven't exactly gone to waste. There's one person who's benefited.

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Miraculous Ladybug

You’re Loved -  Adrien Agreste, Chat Noir, different identities but more alike than he would like to admit. No matter who he becomes at any given time, there's always something very important missing in his life. Will he ever find what he's looking for? Or is it possible he's always had it and never realized it?

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Beyblade

We Are One -  Kai gave it his all battling against Brooklyn and his bit-beast Zeus. Now, after his close brush with death, Kai must summon the strength to go and support Tyson before disaster strikes the world. But there's no way he's strong enough to do it on his own...but thankfully, he won't have to, which is what Kai is about to learn. Sister story to "I Can't Lose You."

I Can’t Lose You -  A week after Tyson's battle against the evil bit-beast Zeus and his trapped blader Brooklyn, the world is slowly making its way back to normal. Kai managed to survive and is recovering in the hospital, and Tyson is getting some much-deserved rest. But when Kenny comes to tell Tyson that Hilary has quit the team, he loses it, and goes to find out why. My first Beyblade story.

Save a Dance For Me -  With the all new BBA launching with a gala to celebrate the occasion, Tyson finds himself in the uncomfortable position of needing to ask someone to be his date. He has someone in mind, but will his greatest beyblading rival get in his way and turn out to be his greatest rival in love?

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Teen Titans

Healing Touch -  With several Titans pairing up, the lingering emotions are taking a toll on Raven's empathic senses and causing her to lose control of her own feelings. When she gives in and does something completely crazy, it's up to Beast Boy to pull her out of a dark place and bring her back to the light. - There is accompanying artwork from @hollylu-ships-it HERE and HERE.

More Than a Hero -  I've learned a lot of lessons under Batman, he taught me everything I would ever need to know about being a superhero, about being Robin...but Starfire taught me how to be Dick Grayson, and she taught me how to fly. - Story from Robin’s POV, accompanying artwork from @hollylu-ships-it​ is HERE.

Robin Rising -  Life is good for Dick Grayson, he's the leader of a team of superheroes he's blessed enough to call his family, and he's about to turn 18 which he figures will open up a whole new world of possibilities for him. But when his old mentor and "father" calls in, showing that he captured a criminal that had eluded the Titans forever, things get flipped upside-down. - Multichapter fic which is part of a much larger universe, plenty of accompanying artwork can be found over on @hollylu-ships-it​‘s account. Go give her a follow and fav.

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Sonic the Hedgehog

A Light in Darkness -  A small band of heroes go back in time to try and prevent a cataclysmic event that would eventually destroy all of creation as they knew it. But what is the nature of this threat? How dangerous is it? And how far will they have to go in order to stop it from viciously destroying all they hold dear? Features a deep cast of Sonic characters, and a very special OC owned by @e-vay​

Anonymous -  For Shadow the Hedgehog, Christmas doesn't mean what it means to his friends and the rest of the world. Instead, he has a self-appointed mission he needs to carry out. But this year, he may find something that he's never really had before, and it could change the way Shadow sees Christmas for the rest of his life.

Christmas Wishes -  For ten years, Amy Rose has only wanted one thing for Christmas, and she's finally come to accept the reality that she'll never receive it. But a conversation with Rouge rekindles her hope and her Christmas spirit. Will she be let down again? Or will her one wish finally come true this year? Read to find out. (Sister story to my other story titled "Anonymous")

Comfort In the Storm -  When a thunderstorm strikes and leaves Cream quivering in fright, it's up to Tails to find a way to alleviate his crush's fears, and maybe even give her a reason to enjoy thunderstorms instead of fearing them.

Cream Adventure DX: Author’s Cut -  A redo of an old story. Cream finds a strange statue in the meadow, and she knows just who to go to to figure out what it is, but she gets more than she bargained for when she goes looking for him. What happens?

Dreams of an Absolution - Silver lays awake at night and reflects on his life in this apocalyptic world Iblis has destroyed...but most of his reflections revolve around a certain fire girl with lavender fur. He wants to be happy with her, but a warzone is a bad place to kindle love, and so every night he lays awake, and dreams of an absolution.

Relations -  Knuckles has a problem. He's in love...but...that presents a very unique problem...or does it?

Running to the Point of No Return -  Sonic is the fastest thing alive, and Amy is told that that's the biggest obstacle keeping her and Sonic away from each other. But what's she supposed to do to keep up with him, when there's NO ONE fast enough to keep up with him?

Scars -  Some things that happen in life leave scars behind that go with us for the rest of our lives. For Miles "Tails" Prower, such a thing happened to him in the depths of space many years ago...the loss of his first true love...though the pain weakens and the scars fade, they never go away completely, and Tails has learned to live with and embrace that fact.

Seven Rings and Five Fingers In Hand -  A redo of the final battle in Sonic and the Secret Rings, Sonamy style!

The Heart of Chao - Chao are adorable little creatures, and they make great pets for anyone who's looking for something to take care of. But there's more to chao than just being cute, they're filled with more heart and love than anyone can imagine, and that can sometimes lead to bringing others closer together. Here are just a few stories of that very thing happening to our favorite characters.

Trapped In This Machine -  Sonic has seemingly fallen madly in love with Amy, but is this sudden romance truly sincere, or is it only skin deep, hiding something sinister underneath? - Inspired by a drawing from @e-vay​, found HERE.