#happy one week to this fic

[bizarrelittlemew]

calling it right now that season 3 starts like this

[wikiangela]

fuck it friday

another snippet of the barbecue fic (aka another snippet of buck being horny for his boyfriend lmao I swear this is a wholesome fluffy family fic haha), this is my priority now, I wanna finish it soon so send all the motivation haha <3

prev snippet

___

“Behave.” He scolds with no heat behind it.

“Mhm, yessir.” Buck purrs, his lips moving across Tommy’s bare shoulder. 

“Fuck.” Tommy breathes out and completely stills, and Buck can’t really see his face but he knows his boyfriend closed his eyes and is trying to calm down – which can’t be easy with Buck still plastered against his back. “This food is gonna burn if you keep this up. And we have guests to feed.” He adds, and as if to make a point, he flips a slightly overdone burger, Buck hindering his movements just a little bit.

Before he can respond, he hears another voice get through the chatter and music and reach his ears.

“Buck!” Chimney calls, and Buck looks over his shoulder to find everyone’s eyes on him, amused expressions on their faces. “Don’t distract our cook, we’re starving!”

“I’m just scolding him for taking his shirt off.” Buck says easily, then adds a little louder, to Tommy but making sure everyone hears, “Babe, you’re gonna burn yourself, you’re a firefighter, you should know better.” He shakes his head, and Tommy looks back at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, you’re gonna pretend like you don’t approve?”

“Oh, I so don’t, Tommy, at all.” Buck tries to keep a straight face, but a chuckle bubbles out of him anyway. “You’re such a distraction, this is dangerous for everyone here.”

“I think you’re the only one with that problem, Buckaroo.” Hen laughs, and only then Buck remembers everyone’s still paying attention to them. It’s so easy to get lost in Tommy, to feel like it’s just them, even in a crowd of people. So distracting. It’s a hazard, really. He should keep Tommy away from everyone, preferably locked in the bedroom with him, for everyone’s safety.

___

no pressure tags (lmk if you wanna be added or removed):

@dr-shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @ladydorian05 @diazpatcher @monsterrae1 @rainbow-nerdss @pirrusstuff @bucks-daddy-issues @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @diazheartsbuckley @giddyupbuck @thewolvesof1998 @underwaterninja13 @your-catfish-friend @kinard-buckley @evansboyfriend @beyourownanchor6 @weewootruck @kirkaut @jewishbuckley @loveyouanyway @daffi-990 @lonelychicago @bibuckkinard @spotsandsocks @bucked-it-up @theotherbuckley @drcloyd @bidisasterevankinard @hippolotamus @girlwonder-writes @perfectlysunny02 @dadbodbuck @kinkleydiaz @diazsdimples @aringofsalt

[ricky-mortis]

Curtwen Week Day 6: Happy Ending

[lovesickeros]

☆ de fontaine

{☆} characters furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings angst, suicidal thoughts, hurt / no comfort {☆} word count 1.4k

This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair!

She thought, for one moment, she could put the mask down and breathe – for one moment of daydreaming, she thought she could just be Furina. She thought she would finally get to live the live she should've had in the first place, the life she threw away to play God to an audience who saw her as nothing but a circus animal, dancing to their whims. Furina just wanted to be selfish for one brief and fleeting moment..and it was gone before she could even grasp it in her hand. A comet soaring past far out of her reach.

She can barely keep her hands from violently shaking as she looks down at them – broken and bloody and more a corpse then a person – and she feels so numb she can't even feel the rain pelting against her back. None of this is fair, she wants to scream, why is it always me? But her voice is silent beneath the torrent of rain. She wonders if the ocean would take her if she sank into it's depths – just for a moment, she wonders how it would feel to finally be able to sleep at ease.

Furina is tired.

But Furina is nothing if not useful, isn't she?

So she forces her feet to move, dragging against the stone beneath her heels, and drags their bloodied body into the nearest empty building, letting the rain do the work of washing away the smeared blood following her path. The smell makes her feel sick, the feeling of it sticking to her hands and gloves makes her lightheaded, but she persists. Because Furina is useful, because Furina won't let them die out in the rain, because Furina won't stand by and just let them rot on the streets like some..pest.

Furina wants to go home. She wants to sleep and she isn't she if she wants to wake up, this time. But she keeps going anyway.

Because it's all she's ever done, and the habit sticks.

An Archon she may not be, not anymore, but the expectations of five hundred years still linger like eyes on the inside of her skull. They watch her, pry and prod at her thoughts, mocking laughter and judging eyes following her as she forces herself to dance to the song they weave with glee. Furina never stepped off that stage – she's still there, she thinks, watching the crowd stare at her in disdain as the curtain call looms above her like a guillotine. She still hears Neuvillette deliver her damnation and salvation with a trembling voice, still feels her hair stand on end when electro crackled like the crack of the whip, Clorinde's blade aimed at her like a loaded gun.

She's trapped on that stage and she never left, not really.

She hates it. She thinks she hates them, but it's not their fault. They didn't ask for this, didn't ask for everyone to turn against them, didn't ask for her to save them. Neither did she..yet here they are, she thinks.

She tries to tell herself she's in control this time, though. She can stop performing her part in this horrible, bloody play any time she wants. It makes her feel better, just for a little while, if she convinces herself she's still Furina, painfully human.

And Furina has always been good at lying.

It's the believing that's the hard part.

There isn't time for her to wallow in her own self pity, though. They're still bleeding out onto the dusty, creaky floorboards of some random, broken down house and she's just standing there as the blood stains the wood. She can fix it – she's good at fixing things. She's done nothing but fix things – try to, anyway – for five hundred years. She can fix a little wound, how hard could it be? Her hands are clenched so tight they ache as she kneels down, wincing at the creak of the floorboards beneath her heels– she hesitates just long enough to wonder if she's making a mistake before she peels away just enough of the outer layer of their clothes to see the deep, bloody gash across their chest. She tries not to think about it – it's deep, too deep, and she feels dizzy just looking at it, but she's handled worse, right?

Furina can fix it. That's what she's good at.

She doesn't feel so confident when she tries to wrack her brain for..something. Five hundred years, and a little wound stumps her? No, she had to have learned something, right? She's decidedly not trying to buy time because she's panicking, parsing through hundreds of years of memories like flipping through a book. Furina isn't made for this, not really – she's running on nothing but adrenaline and she's really not sure what she's doing, but she's trying. And just like before, it won't be enough, will it?

She'll fall short again – she'll be too late to fix it before she's alone again.

Furina was an Archon..used to be. What use would she have for that sort of knowledge? Which makes her predicament all the more harrowing and bleak. What was she supposed to do?

Furina had heard it first hand, that vitriol in Neuvillette's voice. She isn't sure she's ever heard him that..angry before. She's not sure he would listen to her if she tried, either. And that scares her more then anything. All of Fontaine was up in arms about this..imposter, yet here she was, staring down at them bleeding out in front of her, and she was trying to save them.

Why? Why is she throwing away her only chance at normalcy for a fraud? Why didn't she just turn them in?

They were dying – that should've been a good thing, shouldn't it? So why didn't it feel like it?

"Why you?" Her voice breaks as she speaks in harsh tones, grabbing the front of their shirt in trembling, bloodied hands. "Why now?" She wants to scream, to demand answers they can't give, to claw back the reprieve she was promised after five hundred years of agony..and all she can do is sob into their chest, pleading for an answer that will not come. "Why me?"

Silence is their answer, and it hangs heavy on her trembling shoulders as she cries.

Of course they don't, she thinks bitterly, no one has ever answered her pleas spoken in hushed sobs. Not her other self and certainly not them.

Furina has always been alone. Furina will always be alone.

Because Furina never left that stage, never left that moment when she looked at herself in the mirror and took up a mantle too heavy for her to bear. She always finds her way back eventually. There's no one on the other side anymore – she stands alone on a stage, waiting for an inevitable end she isn't sure will come.

"Please," She pleads through tears and choked sobs, clinging to them like they are all that keeps her from sinking. "Please don't leave me, too." The words burn on her tongue – how pathetic is she that she craves companionship from the bloodied body of the imposter? Perhaps she's truly lost her mind after all these years..perhaps she's finally gone mad. She must have.

But their presence is like the first feeling of gentle warmth upon her skin as the sun crests the horizon, like the gentle lap of tides along her heels, the sway of branches and leaves as the wind blows through them like an instrument all it's own. They are the soothing sound of rain against the window as she watches the dreary skies in fond longing, the first bloom of spring as color blooms upon the landscape like paint had been spilled across the hills and valleys.

They are like the faint spark she carefully nurtures and stokes, so fragile even the smallest wind could blow it out like a candle. She cradles it within her palms, pleads with whoever will listen – prays that someone finally listens, because if not for her, then for them.

She's failed to protect too much already, let too many people with so much trust in her fall between the cracks of her fingers like grains of sand. She won't let them go – she can't.

If nothing else, if she couldn't be saved when she begged for salvation from that five hundred year long agony, even if she never got that chance..

Furina will make sure they do.

[beaconfeels]

Everything is red. Red like rage, like pain, like the howls of his pack as they burned. Peter drenches the world in red, and he feels nothing but anger.

Then, “I’m not afraid of you!” 

It’s not exactly true, but it’s also not exactly a lie. For the first time in months, Peter feels something else. Curious. Intrigued. 

Then everything goes red again. 

—

The boy is defiant. Still refusing to back down, just like the first time Peter met him. He’s terrified but he doesn’t cower. 

As a reward, Peter offers him the best gift he can think of: the bite. 

It’s hugely disappointing when the boy pulls his arm away at the last second. 

“I don’t want to be like you,” the boy says.

It’s a lie, but Peter lets him go anyway. For the first time since he awoke, he wants something more than to be feared. He’ll wait for the boy to come to him. 

—

”I know why you did it,” Stiles says. He’s curled up against a tree, clutching his bruised ribs. This time, he really isn’t afraid.

That knowledge soothes Peter, cools down the red enough for him to focus on pale skin and brown eyes. 

“They killed your family,” Stiles says, “I would have done the same.” 

That is also not a lie, and Peter leans in, tilting his head to the side as he inspects the boy. “You don’t hate me anymore,” he realizes out loud.

”Maybe not,” Stiles says, “But that doesn’t mean we’re on the same side.” 

Fair enough, Peter thinks, slinking back through the trees before the rest of the pack catches up with them. 

—

Being alive again is strange. Death did not become him, but he’s not so sure life does anymore either. He misses the red haze sometimes. Everything is so colorful, so vivid now. For the first time in his life, there are moments when he wishes his senses were as dull as a human’s. Six months in, and he still hasn’t gotten used to it. 

He goes deep into the forest, the only place where he doesn’t feel assaulted by sensory overload. There, he finds the one intrusion he doesn’t mind. It’s his boy, curled over something in his hands in a grassy meadow. 

Stiles’s lips move, and Peter can’t quite make out the words, something in Latin, he thinks. 

Peter creeps closer and sees that a dead leaf in Stiles’s hand is slowly unfurling into green. 

“Yes!” Stiles says, pumping his fist, and then nearly falls over when he realizes Peter is standing not ten feet in front of him. 

“Clever boy,” Peter purrs.

”Yeah yeah,” Stiles says with an eye roll, but his cheeks blush rosy pink. 

—

”Stay,” Stiles says, reaching out to snag Peter’s hand. He’s curled up on his bed, blanket pulled hastily over himself because Peter had commanded him to get some sleep. 

This is what Peter had wanted back in that parking garage. To be wanted. To be chosen. It’s not all he wants, but it’s plenty for now, Peter decides as he lies down beside his boy. 

Stiles curls against his body, and Peter puts an arm around him and holds him tight, planting a soft kiss in his hair as the boy falls asleep.

Yes, it’s quite enough for now. 

—

”You want me, right?” Stiles asks. He sounds sure and steady, even though his heart is pounding in his chest. 

“Yes,” Peter answers.

”In all the ways?”

”In all the ways.” 

Stiles nods, a little smile curling up the corner of his lips. “Okay, you can have me,” he says. 

The touch of his boy’s hands is nothing like the red that burned through Peter for so long. It feels like a cool breeze on a warm day, soothing and refreshing. 

Their lips touch and part, touch and part. Everything is Stiles’s smile and Stiles’s sparkling eyes, and Stiles’s fingers in his hair. Gold, like the last light of evening, flooding everything in its soft glow. 

[flowercrowngods]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 (these make one big story, you won't understand this part without the others)

day 07: free space a happy ending

Wakefulness embraces him so slowly and gently that Steve’s not entirely sure he isn’t dreaming when he sees Eddie lying next to him, watching him with an easy smile as his fingers tap out a slow beat on his pillow. Steve looks at him, blinking away the remnants of sleep, not quite daring to do anything more than that for fear of it being a dream after all, scared that Eddie would disappear if Steve reached out to touch. 

But then Eddie’s smile widens. “Good morning, sunshine.” 

Steve gasps a little and moves his hand to Eddie’s cheek, tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear, his breath hitching when Eddie leans into the touch. 

“You’re here,” he whispers, his gaze wandering over Eddie’s features, taking it all in and looking for any indication that this is a dream. 

Eddie hums. “And you’re pretty.” 

It hits him out of nowhere, the open sincerity in Eddie’s voice, the fondness in his eyes, the honesty in everything about him. The love, open and free now — or getting there, at least. It’s still so raw, though, so new, that Steve doesn’t know how to handle it yet. 

“Shut up,” he huffs once he’s caught his breath, rolling over to hide his face and the way his cheeks are heating up. He rolls right into Eddie's chest, though, and he's so warm, so close, smells so good that Steve wants nothing more than to bury his face in his neck and stay there for the rest of the morning. Or maybe the rest of his life.

The reflex to pull away is there. The urge to run and hide, to laugh it off, to freeze up and find something else to do, something to occupy his hands and stop them from reaching for Eddie. Years and years of muscle memory telling Steve to leave. 

But Eddie's arms come around him, holding him close and pulling him even closer. And Steve breathes him in, remembering that it can be okay. Remembering that they get a chance now. 

Remembering the words. 

What are you doing? 

Changing the world. 

So he tries that, too. Changing the world. He tries by winding his arms around Eddie, too, and breathing in again and again, learning that Eddie won't disappear if he does. 

Slowly, he dares to move his arms, stroking along Eddie's back in slow, gentle patterns, lulling himself into a safety he hasn't felt in a while. Maybe ever. At some point Eddie begins to hum, and Steve thinks that it's just another one of his audible smiles, inviting Steve and the rest of the world to join in if they're so inclined. But then he detects a familiar melody in the vibrations of Eddie's neck against his skin, and he holds his breath to find out what it is. 

His heart jumps when he recognises the song as one he used to listen to on repeat like a lovesick fool around the time his feelings for Eddie turned into something more, something better, something infinitely worse. 

It skips and he forgets how to breathe as he lets his hands travel over Eddie's back, slowly and tentatively daring to slip underneath his shirt and touch his skin. 

Eddie begins to sing, then, and Steve wonders if he's even been in love with him before, because nothing of what he's ever felt compares to Eddie's gentle, hoarse, sleep-rough voice as he sings Somebody to Steve, to their little bubble, or to the world outside. 

"I want somebody to share, share the rest of my lifeShare my innermost thoughts, know my intimate details."

He closes his eyes as he listens, focusing on the vibrations, on the warmth, on the closeness, on how this moment is everything he's never even dared to want. Everything so perfect that he couldn't even dream it up. 

Everything. You're everything. 

He needs to be closer still, so be buries his nose in Eddie's neck and breathes him in, tangling their legs, filled with a breathless kind of joyful bliss when Eddie's breath hitches, too, and he stumbles over the words of the second verse as Steve tries to climb into his skin. 

"I want somebody who cares for me passionatelyWith every thought and with every breath."

You have me, Steve thinks, pressing his lips to Eddie's pulse point. It's not a kiss, not quite. It's something deeper. It's a promise. 

Eddie's hands come up to hold him there even as his voice carries through the drumbeat of Steve's heart in his throat, running fingers through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, making him purr along to the melody. 

"But when I'm asleep I want somebodyWho will put their arms around me and kiss me tenderlyThough things like this make me sickIn a case like this, I'll get away with it."

When the song ends, Eddie's words faded out, replaced once again by the gentlest silence, Steve feels raw. Vulnerable. Open and exposed. But he also feels safe, and loved, buried in Eddie's skin and held there, as though Eddie is just as scared of fading away as Steve is. 

He lifts his head just slightly, enough to meet Eddie's eyes – only to find that they're closed, an expression so serene like Steve has never seen before. Mesmerised and overflowing with affection, he reaches out to trace the line of his brows, down to his cheeks and all the way to his lips, where his eyes are glued for a second. 

The thought of kissing Eddie is right there. The opportunity is, too. But he doesn't. He barely dares to move as it is. But he does roll them over the rest of the way until he lies comfortably on top of Eddie, and tucks his head underneath his chin, finding one of his hands and lacing their fingers. 

"You've got him," he breathes eventually. "That somebody. If you—“ 

"Yes," Eddie says, his other hand finding its way to the nape of Steve's neck to play with his hair again. "I want."

"Good." It's lame; far from what he wants to say. From what he has already said last night. It feels like they're doing this backwards, starting with the I love you and catching up with the slow build-up afterwards. "Good. Me, too." 

"Good," Eddie hums, and there's that smile again that Steve can't help but mirror. 

They fall asleep again like that even though it’s already late in the morning; cuddling and holding and cradling each other, still trembling slightly. Maybe that's what changing the world will do to you. Maybe that's the bravery more than the love. 

Or maybe it's just Steve and Eddie. Steve and Eddie. SteveandEddie. 

I love you. 

~*~

It takes a bit for Steve to relearn loving Eddie. To not associate it with tragedy and sadness and a bone-deep loneliness that'll leave him breathless even on the best of days. 

It takes a while for Steve to learn a whole new kind of breathlessness, a whole new kind of aching when it comes to Eddie. 

And Eddie's not much better than Steve, pulling away when Steve wants him closer, swallowing his words and needing a second, third, fourth try until he learns that he gets to love Steve now. 

Years of unrequited love, or feelings unreturned, of words put out into the universe with no one to receive them, are not easily or quickly unwritten. But every time Steve's breath gets lodged in his throat and he wants to run away, Eddie is right there to remind him of what they can have now. Every time Steve tries to be a little less of who he really is, Eddie is right there to coax him out of his head with gentle touch and a lot of hugs. 

Every time Eddie starts to doubt himself and all the ways he makes Steve the happiest person on the planet, Steve is right there with the words he only has for Eddie. Words that don't get stuck anymore. Words that finally get a recipient. 

~*~

Their first kiss, the first real kiss, doesn't happen that first morning. They spend the first week only holding each other, barely wanting to let go, hiding their vulnerabilities within each other. 

Steve is worried about it at first, seeing Eddie so quiet, so reverent, lacking his usual cheer, his energy and snarky comments. He asks about it one night, ready to prove right that he isn't and can never be enough for him, that all he will do is steal the things that make him Eddie. 

Eddie stops then, lifting Steve's chin with a finger when he's too scared, too ashamed, too vulnerable to meet his eyes on his own accord. 

"Stevie," Eddie says, his voice so gentle that Steve immediately feels stupid for doubting. "I have loved you for ten years. I've had you for three days. Let me bask in it. Let me be unable to be myself with how absolutely and utterly overcome I am with the knowledge that I have you now. That I get to hold you. That I get to kiss you and keep you and... God. I'm not unhappy. I'm so much the opposite of that that I'm not sure there's a word for it. Other than devoted. Smitten. Bewitched, body and soul."

Steve wants to kiss him then. Almost does, with the way they're just staring at each other, breathing the same air —air that smells like Eddie now. In the end, Eddie just holds him, brushing a kiss to his cheek, his forehead, his temple, and whispers, "Let me bask in it." 

And so they do. 

Wayne called Eddie not long after with the words, "Chrissy just told me the wedding's off. Please tell me that means what I think it means." 

Eddie just blushed, reaching for Steve, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "Yeah, I, uh. I finally talked to Steve."

There was a very loud cheer on the other end that made Steve laugh, falling into Eddie's side, holding him tight, a weight falling off his shoulders knowing that Wayne was okay with them. 

You know, I always figured it would be you. 

No matter what happens, you'll always be a son to me.

It made his eyes sting again, but he basked in the moment and in the knowledge that Wayne was on their side. Always has been, always will be. 

"You better come here on Sunday, and bring Robin and Chrissy, too." 

"Robs and Chrissy?" Eddie asked. 

"Oh, you're in for a treat. I'll see your asses on Sunday, boys." 

And with that, he hung up. Steve immediately went to call Robin, hopeful and giddy with Wayne's implication, knowing that Chrissy was Robin's person just like Eddie was his. 

"She loves me," Robin said, on the verge of tears, and Steve joined here right then and there. "She's– Steve. She's so– She... God!" 

"Yeah," Steve laughed at the ceiling above his bed, grinning because Robin sounded so happy, not even caring that she didn't have the right words for it, because he could hear Chrissy laughing in the background, too. Laughing and saying hi to him and interrupting Robin's ramblings and groans and giggles with kisses that always left her dumbstruck for a good two seconds each time. 

When the call ended, he went right back to the living room, where he and Eddie started watching Pride and Prejudice before, and fell right on top of him with a happy, happy smile. 

~*~

It happens at Wayne's, exactly one week after Eddie showed up at Steve's in the middle of the night. One week after the phone call. One week after I love you. 

It happens in the soft glow of the fairy lights Steve and Eddie helped him put up years ago. I happens after Wayne hugged him tight once more, after he pulled Chrissy to the side and promised her that she's still his kid, that he still loves her, and that he's happy to see her smile like that. After he promised the same to Robin.

It happens when Wayne's inside to refill their drinks and Chrissy and Robin are caught up in each other that they're blind and deaf to the rest of the world. When Steve turns to find Eddie looking at him with the softest, gentlest expression. 

"Eddie," he whispers, leaning in to rest their heads together, lacing their fingers and stroking his thumb along Eddie's palm.

"Yeah, baby?" 

Baby. It fills him with butterflies, with the urge to scream, to shout from all the rooftops that he loves Eddie, and more importantly, that Eddie loves him back! Baby. Baby.

"I love you." 

"Hmm. I love you more." 

No, you don't. Just longer. "Can I kiss you?" 

He can feel Eddie's little gasp before he leans in even closer, rubbing their noses together, cradling Steve's face with his free hand. "Please," he whispers. 

And Steve does. He captures Eddie's lips, pouring into it everything he feels and more. Sealing the promises he's made and all the ones he's yet to make. The promises to love and cherish Eddie. To be brave. To be there. To stay and keep and bask. 

It's nothing like their first kiss all those years ago. There is no question behind it this time. Only declarations, only promises, only the beginning of a shared future. 

And there are many, many more after this one.

🌷🤍🌷 THE END 🌷🤍🌷

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen @livsters @eddiemunchondeeznuts @abstractnaturaldisaster @steddie-as-they-go @hyperfixationgoddess @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @eddiemunsonswife @bidisastersworld @ghost-ly-s @romanticdestruction @walkingaftermidnight07 @anaibis @rainydays35 @mightbeasleep @sunfloweringstories @korixae @tuesdaycats @totoroinatardis @ilovebookshowboutyou @musical-theatre-gay @theluckyalien @copingmechanizm @srra @changelingbaby @sassygoop @obsessivelyme @r0binscript @hardboiledleggs @estrellami-1 @bisexualdisastersworld @space-invading-pigeon @swimmingbirdrunningrock @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @oxidantdreamboat @spilled-jar @phirex22 @littlemsterious @captaingigglyguinea @animecookie95 @sharingisntkaren @haluton @littlemsterious @animecookie95 @suddenlyinlove @bisexual-bilingual-biped @jinx-nanami @makewavesandwar @scheodingers-muppet @morcantinon @hexdbog @homosexualhomocide13

god i can't believe it's over. i thank you, every one of you, who cheered for me, cried with me, screamed and yelled at me, and stayed with me throughout this past week. i have no words right now other than thank you 🤍🌷 and i hope this is okay

[magicinavalon]

“Come on, meleth-nîn; I am here now, am I not?”

My third submission for @aralas-week!! Once again, a collaboration with the wonderful @queerofthedagger. You can find their incredible accompanying fic here as well as a little snippet below <33 The title of the drawing is also a line they wrote from the fic!!

“Come here,” Aragorn says, and his voice is stripped of concern now, of that careful distance he has been keeping up since he returned—as if he was scared that Legolas would crumble if Aragorn let him see properly.

[tunastime]

"hold my hand. please" + draping a blanket over their sleeping body?

you know i'm a rentho or ethubs guy but i'll be happy with any pairing you choose :3

"pull me closer…" / draping a blanket over their sleeping body (873 words) (x)

"You know, this would be a lot easier if you actually went to bed like a regular person, my dude."

The bundle carefully tucked in his arms gives an aborted huff, eyes narrowed as he stares up at him. Ren gives the bundle, shock white hair and mismatched eyes, a pitying glance from behind his half-moon glasses. Etho continues to glare up at him, all angry kitten-like and bristly and no actual bite. Careful not to jostle his precious cargo, Ren weasels open the door to the monolith. He'd be happy to make this Bdubs' problem, were it not that Bdubs wasn't here, and Etho didn't have a room closer than this, and Ren wasn't about to tuck him away in a cold castle.

"Tango's a snitch," Etho finally mutters, voice heavy with exhaustion.

"Feisty!" Ren snorts. "Tango would've let you sleep if you hadn't... hm, dunno, passed out in his dungeon?"

Etho burrows a little closer, a familiar, shifting expression flitting over his partially-concealed features. 

"I, ah, fell asleep," he offers. Ren raises a doubtful eyebrow.

"In the prize room of Decked Out," he states. Etho gives an aborted shrug.

The inside of the monolith is as homey as it had ever been, lined with smooth, white stone and dark wood, carpets and chests and low hanging lights Ren had to duck to avoid. 

"You're going to sleep in a real bed, my man," he muses. Etho sighs.

"I had it under control!"

"I'm sure."

"Tango... had it under control,” Etho mumbles.

"He's gonna have a heart attack thinkin' you straight up died and your body got all..."

"Stuckificated."

Ren scrunches his nose, planting a kiss on the free space of Etho's forehead. Etho makes a startled squeak, squirming in his arms as Ren stands on the first step of the stairs, beaming down at him.

"You sound just like 'em."

Etho grumbles.

"Jerk," he warbles out, more embarrassed laugh than bite.

Ren laughs, a sound that rolls through his chest just as much as it probably rolls through Etho. Ren follows the staircase up several landings to the sparsely used bedroom, the faint smell of old candles and packed linens drifting through the space, tugging on memories. Etho spent some of his time here—when he wasn't sleeping in his workspace, or on the couch, or on the floor, or in his half finished build, or, it seemed, in the rooms of Decked Out Two. Those nights Ren remembers with a particular, swelling fondness, pressed carefully between the chambers of his heart. 

He lets Etho untangle himself, all limbs and sharp joints and padded muscle. He shakes himself out, flopping forward at the waist to stretch out his back as Ren steps backward, grinning at him. At this angle, all of Etho's hair, the partially braided bits that Bdubs attempted to keep together, fall over his head and brush the floor. Etho huffs, brushing it all back in one messy swipe as he stands up, looking disgruntled and dislodged. He lets his shoulders sag a little as he starts to detangle his hair, fix his clothes and wander to the bedside. Ren watches with a careful, somewhat attentive eye. It doesn't take Etho long to settle despite all his stretching and preening—as soon as he sits, tugging off non-essential clothes and changing into pajamas passed over, he crawls under the layers of blankets and curls up, small against the wide space of the mattress. 

Ren steps forward then, tucking the blankets better over his shoulders, carefully combing back hair that dips into Etho's face. Etho's face softens in the now-low light, smoothing out the freckles and smile lines, crow's feet and lines of stress under his eyes. Ren runs his hand through his hair, back over his shoulders and rests it there on the cusp of his arm before he pulls away. Just as he does, Etho catches his hand, tugging ever so, more deadweight than anything as he fights sleep.

"What's up, baby?" Ren jokes, giving his weak hand a squeeze.

"Stay here," Etho mumbles into the pillow. Then, partially aborted as he shuts his eyes, more sound than words: "Please."

"Well," Ren muses, scrunching up his face. "Since you said please, I don't know if I have much choice!"

Etho hums, the note high in his throat. Ren takes that as a fundamentally good sign. 

"But," he tacks on, sitting in the space Etho leaves for him, the warm impression of him still felt on the blankets. "I'm not lying down with you. I have other things to do, unlike you."

"Mrgh."

"I know, it's a terrible shame. I slept the entire night last night, so I'm allowed to work during the day."

Etho huffs. The tense look to his face dissipates though, as Ren leans forward to press a kiss to his temple, smooth back his mess of hair that most certainly, certainly needs a good brush, and probably a good shampoo. Ren sets the task a little higher on his mental to-do list. He lingers against Etho's cheek, kissing the high of his cheekbone, smiling to himself when Etho relaxes a fraction. 

The tired give of his body under Ren's careful ministrations is all he can ask for.

[spacebabesuki]

Hellcheer's First Halloween Party 🎃 — Hellcheer Week

October 31, 1986.

It’s their first Halloween together as a couple, and they’ve been invited to Robin’s party.

Chrissy is thrilled; Halloween is her absolute favorite day of the year, her favorite holiday. She’s been practically buzzing all October, like a kid who’s had too much candy, and Eddie finds it pretty cute. She loves everything about it—the smell of pumpkin drinks, autumn leaves, candy, and, of course, costumes!

Eddie Munson, on the other hand, has always liked Halloween for one reason: scaring people and wearing the most grotesque masks he can find.

He had already planned to dress up as something awesomely nerdy and scary as hell, just to freak out kids in the street—maybe Pinhead or a character from Lord of the Rings or Star Wars.

He just wasn’t counting on the fact that, for the first time, his Halloween would be different—it’s his first with a girlfriend.

He can hardly believe it, after so many years of mocking the “dorky” couples who dressed in matching costumes at parties he never got invited to. And now his girlfriend wanted to do the same, a couple’s costume, and he froze when she asked him.

So, when Chrissy asked him to dress up as a couple, he said no. Actually, he said, “No fucking way, angel. Sorry, sweetheart, but no.”

But Chrissy spent days trying to convince him, even pointing out, “He even has your name! Edward Scissorhands... it’s like you!” she said.

He answered, “Thinking like this, baby, we could go as the Iron Maiden mascot, since it also has my name.”

But she didn’t give up, spending all thirty days of October trying to convince him with arguments like, “I love this movie! Please, Eddie, pleeease!”

He was set against it, unwilling to break his lifelong “no couples costumes” rule. He could only imagine how hard Gareth would laugh at him.

So...he realized that he had only laughed at and hated the happy couples in costumes in previous years because he didn’t have a girlfriend. He even started thinking about couple costumes, like Chrissy as Princess Leia and him as Jabba, but she would never go for that; he still needed to convince her to watch Star Wars.

She begged again and again and again. And then she looked at him with those big blue doe eyes, and, oh fuck, goddammit...he couldn’t resist. He said yes. He always said yes to her.

And now, here they are, dressed as Kim and Edward from Edward Scissorhands on the spookiest night of the year. Only, it doesn’t feel spooky at all to him. Not when he’s got the girl of his dreams, looking perfect in that white dress. She even did his makeup, sitting him down in front of her pink vanity to apply the white powder and tousle his hair just right. She was so excited and happy, and fuck, he would do anything for her. The only part he actually liked was the “scissor” hands… and, of course, the promise of kissing her allll night long.

Eddie Munson | Chrissy Cunningham | Hellcheer Week 2024 | Halloween Party - Day 13 @hellcheerweek

[petruchio]

hello!! chapter one of my finnick/annie prequel fic is now up on ao3. please please please read it if that’s at all of interest to you. ok that’s all for now love you bye!!!

[good-beansdraws]

Fe Aspec Week Day 2: Friendship

An indulgent piece for today!!!! :') It's no secret the trio's friendship has always had a really special place in my heart, and I've been grateful for the taste of acceptance and contentment it brought me during (and long after) I played the game. To see them find the most caring and complete friendship in each other was truly inspiring.

Here's to all of us finding the people that make us "never long for companionship throughout the rest of our days" <3

[kanene-yaaay]

He started it!

Kanene's notes: I think my brain is no longer able to grasp what a 'quick, small fic' is kjhgfdfghjjhgvjhgf somebody this was supposed to be just a small drabble but the cuteness broke me. Somebody save me from the Dogday brain rot please somebody save me...

But anyway! Can't say when I will be able to post again, college just started and so my days are going to be very full :') Still! Hope you all like this!

Warnings: Plenty of raspberries, nibbles and teasy nicknames. Around 3,500 words. Ticklish!Dogday and Ler!Reader. Other than that, nothing, this is pure tooth-rooting fluff. Rip da boi. Also! Once again, I'm obsessed w Felix's writing style where the dialogues and narration are mingled together so all the hugs and thank you's to her :D

[~*~]

Dogday had started it.

Of course it was him. Just like a ray of sunshine, your own personal star, shining and chasing the dark shadows away, he did and now there was no other way this could’ve played out. 

“A-angel, please!” His voice glitched, getting lower at the end of his plea, however immediately growing higher again as giggles began filling the space, crackling and buzzing in both despair and delight. “Think about what you’re about to do!”

You hummed and smiled at his squeal, fond and sweet and absolutely devilishly as you remembered how this entire game began.

Every single corner of this factory was dangerous. Even so, there were hostile places where any kind of sound, whisper or even a poorly suppressed gasp could attract the worst kind of attention and immediately break in pieces the fragile peace that warily followed you and Dogday in your path. At the time, you both had been walking through one of these areas for far too long, bathed by complete silence, careful to keep your steps silent and with an alerted kind of tension clinging to your form with each passing second. 

That was when, for some reason, Dogday decided that enough was enough. It was his moment to shine.

Where even did the idea come from? Has he been bored?  

“You just seemed so stressed!” His tail was wagging so much you could feel the wind it created hitting your legs. An involuntary coo left your mouth at the playful, a tad proud glint in his eyes, which only made his smile bigger and loopier. He tried to tug his hands away to hide his face. Needless to say, it was an unsuccessful attempt. “No, no, no! Don’t!”

Anyway, it had been confusing at first. When the giant sentient toy turned in your direction, making fingerguns with his paws and pretending to be firing at something, you immediately spun around in a quick and swift movement, grabpack and firing hand ready to attack pointing in the same direction as him, eyes searching for the danger he was gesturing. 

… Stopping to think, he did almost laugh at you that moment, didn’t he? You bet that if you both didn’t have to conceal any and every sound his crackles would’ve rang free and joyfully across the whole factory. 

You took an exaggerated deep breath and blew slowly in a faux disappointment, feeling his muscles under you tense and shake with barely concealed titters, a tiny protesting half whine and half plea flying around, his torso squirming.

(Away or closer to the sensations? Both of you knew the answer very well.)

Tsk. You hummed again, only to hear that adorable squeal once more. It took everything to not let him go and dig, to listen those high pitched squeals over and over again and see how many of them you could collect, letting them dance in harmony with his glitching laughter and rumbling chuckles until happiness and joy were the only thing filling his mind and actions, until his smile were wide enough to light up the dark pathway ahead and each tiny, almost imperceptive wiggle, scribble or twitch of your fingers was followed by the lovely, lovely melody of his tickly delight, prompting more and more expectant titters and pleas without you even having to lay a single finger on him.

But the game couldn’t be over so soon. And it was quite fun to see how much giggles you could get even though you weren’t actually doing anything.

(Yet.)

So you pushed down the adoring smile that tried (again) to take over your features and let it morph into a sad expression, slowly shaking your head in a fake disappointment.

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Such a good friend and he almost laughed at you like that… After everything you both have been through, after all the fights and the talks, the hugs and the vents… You see how that is.

“P-please! Angel, just, please!”

No. Nuh-uh. You went back to your previous position, shoving your face in that soft fur. Don’t start with the sugarily sweet nicknames. You were brooding. Moping. Sad. Devastated. Betrayed. In absolute and total pain. There was no angel available right now, please return later.

His only answer was a series of even more glitched squeaks and titters growing stronger and giddier at any second with your silliness, especially when his body involuntarily jumped, already in alert for any attack and still not doing anything to scramble away. 

That could be your fault, but in your humble opinion, it wasn’t very clear. Okay, maybe he couldn’t just bring himself to stop and stand still when you kept using every opportunity to nuzzle and mumble on his belly non stop, easily following his torso and quivering stomach around as he wiggled and squirmed in the same place, trying with all his might to not lose himself already with all the ticklish shocks that bolted across his entire midriff with such a simple action. Words (and teases) continue to fall like waves from your lips.

Maybe he just had been bitten by an awful ticklybug! Who would know?

“There is no tick-” Dogday gasped and snickered when you blew air against his fur again, freezing for a second in preparation for a raspberry that didn’t come. Realizing that, he let his head fall on the floor and trashed even more. He tugged his arms again, playfully growling when you kept your hold firm on them and wiggling even more as he turned to stare back at you, a funny kind of energy and antecipation racing each other in his nerves. “There is no ticklebug! It’s you!!”

Oh well. 

A pity.

Anyway. Back to the story. That had been how everything began. He later explained his idea for the game, when you were able to exchange words again. From that moment, in total random occasions, one of you would make a gesture in the other’s direction and they would have to quickly react to it. In the most silly and unexpected way, preferentially, as long as you didn’t make any sound while at that.

See, Dogday? No sound.

He yapped in protest, letting out a single surprised, an offended yelp at the accusation. “We don’t need to be quiet here. You’re just teasing me!” Dogday’s hands fell to his sides, no longer trying to pry you away, shoulders shaking with every giggle and eyes watching your every action with joy and expectation. 

You keep going.

The playful exchange became a habit between you two at this point, even filling the moments you didn’t exactly need to be quiet. It was a nice way to interact when there were no more words, memories or promises to be exchanged. That is why Dogday didn’t even bat an eye at you when you called his attention by innocently offering both of your hands in his direction, tail lightly wagging as he immediately placed his own paws on yours, a fun, tiny grin appearing on his previously serious and protective expression when you intertwined your fingers.

Which quickly morphed to a wide stare when you locked your grip and jumped on him, bringing both of you to the ground.

So, yeah, Dogday was the one who started it. And now he was trying to shoot his shot again, pulling out the saddest, sweetest puppy eyes in your direction. 

“Angeel, please. Mercy!”

Awww.

(That was a bit adorable, you couldn’t lie. It kind of melted your heart. Just a tiny, little bit.)

(Ok. A lot.)

But that was the thing, Dogday, you were being merciful already. Because if your hands were free, you would give him the entire special attack. You would just claw and knead on that cute, truly adorable tummy, taking some precious time to give your attention to his sides and all the scribbles and scratches to his ribs, being sure to go and tickle aaaall of his favorite, ticklish spots over and over and over again, for as long as he wanted. 

Wouldn’t that be nice? And, of course, during this your hands would be very, very busy, so he would have to keep his arms nice and snug out of the way. But he could do this for you, right? Even if he was laughing and squirming and crackling his heart out, not even pretending to not love every single moment of this game, or that he wanted it to be over any moment soon. 

“Eek! Wait, wait!” 

You grinned. See? That was what not being merciful would be. But, stopping to think, those are not bad ideas at all. He really couldn’t stop getting any more adorable, could he?

“Sweetheart!” He squeaked and shook his head, partially in a way to disperse all the restless energy taking over his body and partially in a hopeless attempt to make his big ears cover his flaming face.

Oh. 

(It was quite endearing, actually, how he didn’t exactly blush. His smile would get wobblier and the light in his eyes fuzzy and lightly trembling all while he couldn’t decided if he tried to hide his face or kept staring at you with a gaze so full of complete trust, an excited desperation conquering all his features… Honestly it was just as crystal clear as if his face got completely taken over by a strong shade of red, truly.)

Your entire demeanor softened. That nickname was a new one.

(You wouldn’t mind listening to it being giggled out like this again in the future.)

You decided to return the favor.

Yes, gigglebug?

For a piece of time, Dogday froze with wide eyes and a slight ‘bzzz’ sound escaped from his voicebox. Then his squirming grew anew, no longer being able to look at your soft gaze and trying to press his dazzling, gigantic smile on his shoulders, now with his entire body bouncing with barely suppressed snickers.

His tail hit the floor with an endless and quick pace of ‘thump thumpthumpthump’. The confusion in your expression immediately gave place to a wicked smirk.

Hm.

Gigglebug?

He jolted with a yelp.

Silly giggly gigglebug?

Dogday snorts and tries to pry his hands away from yours with a bit more energy than before. Still, his efforts were still half heartedly at best. In turn you just hold them a bit tighter, thumbs lightly rubbing the back of his paws as your tipped your head to the side, - not unlike he himself watched you from time to time - chasing his gaze and maybe or maybe not giving his belly a tiny - so quick and small that it was over in less a blink - nibble until he turned back to watch you with wide fuzzy eyes.

Nope. No hiding that beautiful smile, huh?

His ears perked a little bit and his wide eyes captured yours for a moment, then jumped to your kind hands, your amused, playful glare, his defenseless belly, his captured paws, your suspecting eyes and, eventually, your eyes again.

Then, without breaking contant, he shut his mouth, firmly pressing his lips in a tight line as he lowered his head to his shoulder, successfully hiding, indeed, that beautiful smile.

Ah.

You see how that is.

Dogdayy ~

He let out a muffled giggle, only pressing his face even more on his shoulder, turning away from you.

Well, since he was insisting so much…

You discreetly adjusted your position, took a deep breath and immediately attacked his lower belly.

His entire torso spasmed, almost throwing you out of him with the sudden move, a loud peal of laughter instantly filling the air as the horrible, awfully ticklish vibrations fuelled his trashing, the raspberry spreading across every single of his nerves, leaving each and every one of them tingling and buzzing.

Another deep breath. Another long, long raspberry and a crackling squeal was ripped from his voicebox, more and more following suit as you chased every sensitive path of fur non stop, not losing a single opportunity to shake your head to increase the sensations, giggling a bit at how that never failed to glitch his words and bring more squeaks to the lovely melody of his laughter.

You spared a couple of tiny raspberries for his sides, literally feeling how they made him arch his back. That only gave you even more access to plenty of sensitive, ticklish spots that you were more than happy to latch on and tickle as if the future safety of the entire world depended on sending him to a total madness and increasing your collection of “cute-sounds-that-Dogday-does”.

You experimentally began nibbling that spot that connected his back and side, right below his belt, if you were not mistaken this would…

Snorts took over the giant toy and in a blink his back immediately clued back on the floor, torso trying and failing in curling into a defensive ball. The new round of raspberries vibrated across his side and teased his entire ribcage, tickling each bone and nerve. 

Dogday tried to muffle his reactions on his shoulder, but with each nibble, each raspberry, tease and nuzzle he felt his mind getting more and more overpowered by the realization that it tickled. It tickled so, so, so much and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Not when his face seemed to be set aflame and his entire body kept getting closer and closer from giving up completely from his squirms and wiggles to let himself succumb to the joyful, insane, funny and fun sensation. Not when his angel kept looking at him with so much amusement and fondness that only succeeded to make him feel even more ticklish and the fact that his giggles weren’t the only ones filling the room made him feel extra silly and made his heart melt with delight. When he was able to just laugh and squeal his heart out, carefree and loud and happy.

How could anyone blame him, then, when he saw with the corner of his eyes you lift your head and so he decided to push his luck more, continuing to hide his big, gigantic, loopy smile.

Ohoho.

So, your dear gigglebug was trying to keep all those sweet reactions away from you, even after you worked so hard for every single one of them? Now, that really wasn’t fair, was it?

You gave him a break, no longer tickling him. Still, having your voice so close made his torso instinctively try to wiggle away, which in itself seemed to only re-alight all the reminiscent tingling on his skin, making the tickly sensation it go back to buzz and dance on his nerves, increasing the phantom tickles, each passing second and taunting word making them feel worse than before. All of this only kept Dogday stuck into an infinite sea of unstoppable, hysterical titters and snickers.

Do you think this is fair at all, gigglebug? 

He shook his head and stopped, then nodded and then shook it again, giving you a glimpse of shiny eyes for a second before it disappeared once more on his fur.

Well, you think this isn’t fair at all. But that is fine. You both can stay here all day long if needed, as long it takes until you get to see that beautiful blushy face and dazzling smile. Yep. That sounds like a good, no, perfect idea! He would love this, right? To keep giggling and laughing and squealing here while being tickled silly forever and ever? 

“Sweheheart!”

Oh! You wonder who said that! It sounded like your dear friend Dogday, but it couldn’t be him, right? No, not really. He was too busy hiding away from his best friend, as it seems.

Aw, that was a pity, truly. He was such a kind, awesome presence in your life. With a personality able to brighten everyone’s life and a trustful companion that was incredibly kind and strong. Always ready to help without a second thought or a blink of an eye, to give a hand, a comforting hug or a remark that would bring you straight to reality. 

Besides, he was kind of cute, too. Like a sweet, excited puppy. He had this loud, booming laughter that, when you got him laughing for long enough, started to descend into a series of crackles that never failed to make him snort and bounce around in joy until his voice box began to glitch in the most endearing and funny way. 

“No more teasing! No more!” Dogday’s titters grew to hysterical high pitched giggles and he scrunched up his neck, trying to best to curl up and disappear as more and more heat spread across his face. His tail would make a hole into the factory’s ground at this rate.

See? It was the most adorably adorable thing, honestly. 

Actually…

You adjusted yourself again and his bubbly giggles developed to chuckles, paws tugging from your grip once again. He knew very well what that tune of yours meant.

You kind of missed listening to his laughter…

And so, with a swift move you freed your hands, fastly shoving them on Dogday’s armpits before he could even react. 

Without wasting a single second, you digged.

A shriek took over every other sound in the place. And then other as you pushed your face right in the middle of his tummy, nibbling and pressing raspberries on it without mercy all while your fingers scratched, scribbled and drummed on his pits with no abandon, nimble fingers dancing on the spot for a few minutes before jumping to other one, to prevent him to get used to the sensation.

Dogday just fell limply on the floor, his shoulders, torso and belly shook with the force of his laughter, and his arms kept jumping from hiding his face to cluing on his sides in a futile attempt to stop the wiggling from worming their way, once more, to his ribs or neck. Each snort, squeal, yelp, snicker, crackle and every other sound swirled freely in the air, especially when a raspberry found a new sensitive spot that even he didn’t know about - since when his collarbone was so ticklish? - and focused all their attention there until all his cute and fun reactions slowed to a string of bubbly, hysterical giggles and his friend went on the look for another sweet tickle spot.

His neck, ribs, armpits, stomach, even his own ears had not been safe from the playful attack. A few pieces of time passed until it slowed to an incredible, horrible kind of soft tickling that led to a series of tittering sniggers to spill from his lips and to a beginning of tears to gather in the corner of his eyes.

At this point, his paws came and gently rested on your hands, engulfing them completely, glimmering eyes finding yours as the light scribbling instinctively squirm lazily from one side to other.

You stopped, entire form melting, the playful smirk plastered on your features losing the sharpness of its corners as a proud fondness took over. You freed one hand to caress the fur of his head, chuckling with drops of amusement and care when he closed his eyes and all his muscles relaxed completely at that, his tail now going back and forth in a tired but content wag. He nuzzled your hand. 

There is it. My beautiful smile.

He groaned, pulling his ears until they covered his face. “Angel… You’re ruthless.”

Hey, it’s not teasing if it’s true!

Another groan. He muttered something under his breath but didn’t shy away from your touch.

The silence fell like a soft blanket on you, bringing to that dark, horrible place a feeling of safety and care that used to be just a pointless, futile dream, before.

(This was nice. Safe.)

Suddenly, two paws flew like a blur of movement in your direction and you felt your entire world tumble and turn upside down. 

You blinked and as your eyes focused, only to find a giant sentient toy who resembled a dog and slowly became your trustful companionship on the last days (hours?) in this factory. Someone you knew that would be right by your side and fight for your safety almost as much as you fought for his.

Although, by the way his mischievous gaze found yours and big arms embraced you in a firm, but still gentle, hug, you must admit you weren’t feeling that safe anymore.

…Dogday?

“No. You’re in friend hug jail. Paying for your friend crimes. You can’t get out.”

You snorted. Glad that you had the sense to start that playful game in the safe area you and Dogday had been clearing and taking care for some time since the ‘You Got To Be a Human and Rest’ episode.

Getting comfortable, you let out a relaxed sigh, snuggling closer, letting your hand softly run on his back in a soft, nice rhythm, not taking too long to feel him melting under the caring touch. 

Well, you may be in jail, but your consciousness was clear.

Dogday had started it.

[boyslit]

Prompt: Protector

Rating: G Word Count: 277

Gepard lifted a hand to protect his face as a loud explosion sounded in front of them. When he looked up, the approaching Fragmentum creatures were stumbling, cloaked in a thick wall of smoke. He recognized that smoke. "Stay out of the smoke!" he yelled, throwing out a hand to stop the approach of the soldiers behind him. "It's knockout gas! Wait until the wind takes it and then finish them off!"

Gepard spared a single glance behind them, to the rooftops where the bomb surely must have been tossed from, but he saw nothing.

"Sir, who threw the grenade? That doesn't look like ours."

"It isn't," he said with some irritation. "But I think it's the work of an ally, so let's finish these creatures off while we have extra time."

Sampo leapt with an acrobatic flip across the alley to land on the next rooftop to follow the Silvermanes' route of carnage through the restricted zone, whistling happily to himself. The more he helped old Geppie out, the less their dear captain would have to work himself into the ground, and the more energy he'd have for chasing Sampo around. This was just a little stroll to invest in his own happiness...

Humming, he lined up his next target, and launched the little heart-painted bomb towards the next crowd of creatures. He ducked behind a chimney as Gepard's head whipped around to try and catch him. But there was no one to be spotted nearby, so he only glared and held his troops at bay until the smoke washed away with the wind. Sampo giggled, and rested his chin on his folded arms to fondly watch them mop up the weakened and unconscious fragmentum creatures.

[inkedberries]

Hello! Just wanted to say that I’ve been following you since you Yuri on Ice days and it’s been SO cool to see what you’ve been up to the past few years!! That said you’ve made me CRAZY over Kudou/Yoichi!!!!! Fucking insane!!!! I’ve stumbled across them in your art, got curious about them, read literally every fic they have in ao3, refreshed the tumblr app and your account for new stuff, and spun in circles!!!! I literally know NOTHING about bnha, I had to read the wiki!!!! Overall the situation is funny to me because tragic ship with the chance of meeting again in the afterlife is such catnip to me but I know nothing at all…..

I really loved your comic where Kudou gets killed by the big man (AFO?) and it centers around their relationship ship regarding the word “hero”. I read your analysis too, it was really interesting! Anyways!!!! I’m super excited to see and support what you make during Kudou/Yoichi week!!!! Love your work and have for a long time! Hope you have a wonderful day :)

hello!!!! since yoi days????!?!?!? aaaaaaaaah omg!!!!! hi!!!!! thank you so much for sticking around!!!!!!!❤❤❤❤❤

this was such a lovely lovely message to read, thank you so much for taking the time to send this over, it really made my day :'D❤ AND I AM SO HAPPY I GOT YOU ON BOARD KUDOICHI HELLO WHAT A WONDERFUL PAIRING IT IS!!!! That comic in particular has been in the brain for a long while now bc i rlly want to encapsulate how Kudo and Yoichi's relationship cannot be talked about fully without the big man AFO, as a starting point!

the moment Kudo led Yoichi out of that vault, a timer over Yoichi's head started and it is so delectable hahahah! I also just really love all the moments we can think up that makes the two months before yoichi's death that makes it all the more tragic. I really hope they'll get more notice once season 8 hits and AFO and Yoichi's backstory is shown!!

But in the meantime, I'd be very happy to provide more kudoichi art before that happens❤

I'm very excited about kudoichi week!! I really hope people are able to participate so we can share more of the kudoichi love

[god-of-fandoms]

As Mondo leans against the old stone wall of the Ishimaru family’s balcony, he wonders why the fuck he ever let Taka drag him into this.

A family dinner was a stupid idea; Mondo had said so himself when his boyfriend first brought up the idea. Sure, they had already had ‘family dinners’ before, but those were entirely different. Those had been a relaxing night at the Oowada brother’s apartment, with takeout and video games. Those were casual meetups, laughter and smiles almost eternally present. Most importantly, those were with Daiya and not Taka’s cop dad who had made it his personal mission to take down the Crazy Diamonds.

Ishimondo week 2024, day one: July 14th - Family / Dates

---

Hi everyone!

This is my first Ishiondo Week 2024 fic! I unfortunately won't be able to do a prompt for every day (I've been busy) but hopefully almost 10k words makes up for it? In the meantime, as I rush to get at least one or two more fics done, I hope you enjoy this story!

(Shout out to my beta readers!

@lovely-love-angel on Tumblr - thanks so much for helping me with this despite not being in the fandom! It's always a pleasure to work with you <3

my older brother - thanks for providing your honest feedback, and for not telling our parents that I spend most of my free time writing fanfiction and publishing it online. You're a king even if you're a massive nerd)

have a lovely day!

-Lee :)

[mu3las]

my contribution for this @hxhbigbang23! it's my first ever participating, and I got to do an illustration for @maxiemumdamage 's amazing fic Coal Mine

speedpaint :]